


The Nomad

by orphan_account



Category: Rock Music RPF
Genre: M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After his empty marriage ends, Janick Gers is reduced to living in his car and doing any job he can get.  Having once aspired to being a professional musician himself, he reluctantly accepts a job on the estate of rock vocalist Bruce Dickinson only to be sharply reminded of the reason for his failed marriage.





	The Nomad

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete fiction. No harm or disrespect intended to anyone named in this story, i make no cklaims and recieve no profit of any kind.

The Nomad

Chapter One

Well, that was ironic. Ironic in a shitty kind of way. The only job on the boards that I was even remotely qualified for was as a groundskeeper and general handyman for a rock star. As if my life hadn’t gone down the tubes enough lately now it seemed that I had to have my dead dreams rubbed in my face every day. That is, if I even got the job. But I had little choice but to apply.

It took the exchange three days to get a response to my application. I had to check in with them in person twice a day, there was little choice. I couldn’t phone since I didn’t have a home to phone from. I applied for other jobs in the area in the meantime, jobs as restaurant servers and store clerks but I was competing with kids half my age in those kinds of jobs and I knew my chances there were slim. I was seriously considering moving on to another area when I walked in and they told me I had an interview the next morning for the handyman job.

The interview was with the caretaker of the property, as I expected. Rock stars don’t conduct their own interviews for menial help. The man I spoke to worked for a firm that oversaw the hiring for all of the properties Mr. Dickinson owned, I was told, but this particular position was at his country house in Essex. I wondered how many properties he owned. Maybe I would get lucky and not see him at all. The man’s next words shot that hope down, however.  
“Mr. Dickinson will be staying at the house for the next several weeks. Perhaps you’ve heard he’s been ill?”

I shook my head. At one time I avidly followed all the news from the rock music world but recently there had been more immediate things to worry about. Like finding a roof over my head and money for food. At present I had neither one so I had to be on my best behavior to get this job.

The man looked mildly surprised that I knew nothing of any illness. “He’s under doctor’s orders to rest so as an employee at the estate you will be expected to remain as unobtrusive as possible. You will be given your own quarters on the grounds.”  
“My own quarters?” I said in surprise.  
“Yes, didn’t they inform you? You will be expected to live on the grounds. I hope this won’t present a problem?”  
Little did he know it provided a solution rather than a problem. I had been living in my car and showering at hostels for over a month now since I lost my previous job. I replied to the rest of the interview questions to the best of my ability and sat waiting as the man scribbled a legal pad. He looked up.

“Mr. Gers, I believe you fit all the requirements for this position. Can you report to this address,” he passed me the paper he’s been writing on, “the day after tomorrow?”

I played it cool even though it felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Not only did I have a job, it had the unexpected bonus of providing me with a place to live. I shook the man’s hand, thanked him, and left. It wasn’t until I was driving away in my battered Skoda that I let out a huge sigh of relief.

The following morning I bid goodbye to the vacant shopping complex I had been parking behind each night to sleep and put most of my remaining money in the petrol tank. It wasn’t a long drive to Essex but I had no reason to stay around and I thought I may as well familiarize myself with the area. Essex wasn’t terribly far from where my son was at university and maybe I would be able to visit him on days off, as long as I didn’t visit at the same time as his mother. He was still rather shaken by the divorce, I think, and I wanted to spare him the awkwardness that always happened any time my former wife and I were in each other’s presence. He only knew that we were no longer interested in being together and I was grateful that she hadn’t revealed any of the more personal reasons behind the split.

That line of thought was pointless to pursue so I turned my mind to my new job. It occurred to me that the interviewer hadn’t mentioned the nature of Bruce Dickinson’s illness but I suppose it made no difference. He was apparently recuperating and I doubted I would as much as lay eyes on him anyway. I could perhaps look up more details the next time I was in a library with a public computer. I was certain I would be able to handle the duties of the job, I had been doing a lot of everything over the past few years so I had a familiarity with basic maintenance and grounds keeping. I only hoped this job would last longer than my last, which had been a seasonal job at a golf resort, or that I would at least be able to put some money aside. The pay was fairly good and it did include accommodations so I was optimistic.

I located an out-of-the way area near the town to park for the night and at the appointed time the next morning I located the address. I expected a mansion or elaborate manor house of some kind when I announced myself at the intercom at the gate but as I drove up the long drive I was somewhat surprised to see it was a rather ordinary country house. Large, yes, but not ostentatious. The grounds were sprawling, however, and there seemed to be endless gardens so it appeared I would have plenty to keep my busy.

I took a narrower drive branching off the main one as I’d been instructed and parked at a service entrance at the rear of the house. A matronly woman with short iron gray hair was waiting for me.

“Janick Gers?” She smiled, extending her hand

I smiled and shook her hand, liking her immediately. “It’s actually pronounced Yannik.”

“I’m Rose McCall, I more or less run the house for Mr. Bruce. Please come in.”  
I followed her through a kitchen into an office area, smiling to myself at how she referred to our employer as ‘Mr. Bruce’, and I filled out the standard employment forms as Rose chatted a mile a minute.

“I’ve actually been here for almost twenty years, Mr. Bruce was kind enough to keep me on when he bought the house fourteen years ago. We have two ladies who come in three times a week as housekeepers and three boys who come in as needed to assist in the outdoor chores. You will be in charge of them but don’t let that trouble you, they’re nice kids and they’ll find you a welcome change from old Mr. Carstairs. He had this job previously but his health forced him to retire, he was well into his seventies.”

Rose talked on about the job duties and it was clear that I would be responsible for pretty much anything asked of me from plumbing and electrical repairs to hedge trimming and basic gardening. I assured her that that was fine by me, especially as I would have the college kids to help me, then she turned to other details.

“Now, you’ll be staying at the guest house behind the garage. It’s small but I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable, and you can eat your meals in the kitchen in the evenings, I always make more than Mr. Bruce can eat and you can keep me company while I clean up. It was Mr. Bruce’s specific request that you live on site. Mr. Carstairs lived in town and we couldn’t always get ahold of him if something broke down in the middle of the night. And it’s only fair to warn you that that does happen, the heating system is really old and there are occasional plumbing problems too. Mr. Bruce had been considering a major remodel but then he fell ill and it was all postponed.”

I was feeling comfortable enough with this woman to ask more about that. “About his illness… I’m afraid I don’t know anything about it, is it serious?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t know any details, it was all kept very hush-hush from the media. As for it being serious…well, it’s nothing life threatening, if that’s what you mean. It’s more of a ….. psychological nature.”

I must have had an alarmed look at hearing that because she rushed on, “Oh I don’t mean he’s mentally ill, that isn’t it at all.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice even though there was no one around to overhear. “It’s depression, pure and simple, Janick. Depression and exhaustion. He drives himself so hard, he was constantly running all around the country even when he wasn’t running all over the world with the band. He owns an airline in Wales and a brewery up north, he lectures at the universities, he was writing both a book and a screenplay….” She sighed and shook her head. “He’s in his fifties now. It was just too much and when the personal issues came on top of it all, well, even someone with his energy has their breaking point. The doctors ordered him to take six months off, and as much as he tried to argue they would have none of it.”

I was curious as to what she meant by ‘personal issues’ but I didn’t want to ask too many questions. It wasn’t directly related to my job so I pushed my curiosity aside and listened to her ramble on, picking out the parts of her conversation that were actually informative and enjoying the rest of her banter just for the warmth it carried. I felt as though she had already accepted me as part of the household and after so long of belonging to nothing at all it was a good feeling.

At last she pointed me in the direction of my new home, walking with me back to the parking area.

“Your actual duties won’t begin until tomorrow so you can take the rest of the day to settle in and get used to the place. I’ve left a folder of information about the house and the town in your cottage that will fill you in on things. And if you need anything, just call!’  
All I was thinking of was that it would be wonderful to have a hot shower so when I followed the gravel drive Rose had indicated several hundred yards beyond the extensive garage I first thought I must have followed the directions incorrectly. This wasn’t the cookie-cutter converted garden shed I’d been expecting to be housed in, this was something out of a story book. It was a stone cottage with a slate roof, obviously old but painted bright white and set amid a yard of untended wildflowers.

I was almost reluctant to go inside. If it was beautiful on the outside maybe it was the complete opposite inside; old, smelly, and primitive. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The walls were thick and the windows small but nevertheless it managed to look bright and cheery with a surprisingly modern kitchen area and a three piece bath . The rooms were small but scrupulously clean and I saw Rose McCall’s hand in that. I could get used to this!

 

Chapter Two

The following day I met the three young men who would be helping with the outdoor work and got to know them, they showed me around outlined how Mr. Carstairs had allocated the jobs. I went over it with them and we worked out a schedule, immediately going to work on a few things that had been neglected after Carstairs left. Rose had told me more about the history of the estate over dinner last evening. It had once been hundreds of acres but now was only fifteen. The house had been rebuilt after a fire in the nineteenth century but my cottage was the original gamekeeper’s cottage. Most of the gardens were over a hundred years old and this was why Dickinson wanted to maintain them.

“Mr. Bruce is an educated man, “ she told me, “something most people don’t know. They only see him as a rock star and some of them know he dabbles in writing but he’s interested in a number of things such as history and architecture. You haven’t seen the main part of the house yet but most of the furnishings are authentic antiques. In fact,” she stood and gestured for me to follow, “I’ll show you the house now, Mr. Bruce is down in London until tomorrow.”

The house was lovely and well-kept but certainly didn’t look like someplace a rock star lived. In fact there had been very few indications of Dickinson’s even being a rock star apart from a wall of gold and platinum records and a small sound booth in one room where, Rose told me, he practiced his vocal exercises.

I had been working there for nearly a week before I even saw Bruce Dickinson. I was pruning a tree with dead branches that hung dangerously over the drive when a dark blue Jaguar came along. The windows were tinted so I couldn’t see the occupant but the car slowed and as I jumped down from the low branch I’d been standing on it came to a stop directly in front of me and the window rolled down. As I suspected, it was Bruce Dickinson. He looked a bit older and thinner than the photo’s I’d seen but they had all been older pictures. He wore his hair shorter now, I noticed, but otherwise it was unmistakably him.

“Hello.” He called to me so I went over to the car. Somewhat to my surprise, he extended his hand through the window.  
“You must be the new groundskeeper. Rose told me your name but I’ve forgotten.”

“Janick Gers.” I shook his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Shouldn’t you be using a ladder?” He looked past me to the tree I’d been working on.  
“Probably,” I admitted with a smile, “but I’ve managed.”  
“Well, use one, just to be safe. Can’t have you falling out of trees!” And with a wave he drove on.  
I stared after the car for a minute as it disappeared into the garage. I’d met a number of people involved in the music business back in the day but this was the first time I’d met a major star. He was around my own age, I knew, yet it was so strange look at his life compared to mine, especially considering thirty years ago our circumstances hadn’t been all that different. I sighed and went back to work.

I had Saturdays and Sundays off although I was on call. I’d been given a cell phone for that purpose, although I was permitted to use it for personal calls as well. I only used it twice in my first two weeks on the job, both times to call Dustin, my son. He was the one constant in my life and we were still close, though not as close as I would have liked. But he was a full time student, he had his studies, his friends, his own life and I refused to be the clingy father even though I would have liked someone to talk to in the evenings. Rose talked my ear off over dinner, relating stories of her seven children and thirteen grandchildren but after loading the dishwasher she went home to her house in town, to her retired husband and their cats. I enjoyed my dinners with her but I’m sure she found it strange that I shared so little about my own life. She never asked, though, for which I was thankful. My cottage had television but I never cared much for that so in the evenings I sat and either read or played my old acoustic guitar, letting the music take me away, letting my fingers glide over the strings until it felt like the instrument was an extension of my own body.

Music had always had the ability to do that for me. When I was young I dreamed that I could make a living from my love of music. My mates in school and I formed a band and I spent endless days creating music for us to play. We did fairly well for a few years but eventually one by one the band fell apart. None of the others had the same dream as I did, none of felt the same about our music, so by the time we were in our late twenties they had all drifted away to regular jobs, wives, and families. I sat in with a few bands, I even drifted to London trying to find work as a musician, but then I had to face the real world. Then came the fateful night I had a few too many at a pub where some of my musician friends were playing. I woke up the next morning with Sarah, the drummer’s sister. Three months later she told me she was pregnant.

I had to marry her. I would never have been able to live with myself if I’d simply cast her aside. It had been my fault as much as it had been hers and I wondered if maybe it was a sign that I needed to grow up, sell my guitars and amps, and get a real job. So that’s what I did. It wasn’t too bad for the first ten or twelve years. I worked as the assistant manager of a book store, went home and played with Dustin, and managed to co-exist with Sarah. I spent a lot of time at the pub and taking long, long walks but I couldn’t stay away from music and that ultimately led to my being where I now found myself. I didn’t allow myself to think of it often but on the rare occasions when I did I just closed my eyes and played until my fingers grew numb, letting the music take the might-have-beens away.

It wasn’t like me to be so introspective, I am normally a very happy-go-lucky bloke, living each day as it comes and trying to get as much enjoyment out of it as I possibly could. And I did enjoy my new job. I enjoyed chatting with Rose, I enjoyed hanging out with the college kids during our work breaks, and I enjoyed working in the lush, well planned gardens, but I had been there almost a month before I was called upon to do some maintenance in the house itself.

It was at dusk one evening and I’d been sitting outside the cottage door with my guitar when my cell phone rang with the number of the main house on the display.

“Umm, Gers? Janick, wasn’t it? Bruce Dickinson here. Do you know anything about plumbing?”

“Some. I’m familiar with the basic stuff.” I told him.

“Good. Then could you come up to the house? The fucking shower in my bathroom is all cocked up again.”

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. “ I assured him. I didn’t know what the problem was but I had almost every tool imaginable at my disposal so I grabbed a few that were useful in plumbing repairs and walked up to the house. He must have been watching for me because he opened the front door as I approached. Silhouetted by the entry hall lights behind him I could see that his hair and his shirt were wet.

“Looks like you tried to fix things yourself.” I remarked as he stepped back to let me in.

“I did,” he admitted with a chuckle, “I can do some useful things, you know. Apparently not this, however.”  
I didn’t know whether he was being facetious or sarcastic so I chose not to reply to that, following him up the wide curving stairs. Rose had only showed me the downstairs so this was unfamiliar territory for me. I could see a wide, carpeted hall leading through the heart of the house but he stopped at the first door and opened it for me to enter. I expected a luxurious master suite and was admittedly surprised to see it was a rather ordinary room. Large and furnished with what appeared to be antiques, but otherwise unremarkable and even somewhat untidy with clothes and books strewn around on the bed and chair.

Dickinson led me through the bedroom to an adjoining bath and this was more like I expected. It was very modern looking, marble tiled with a huge glass shower and separate jetted tub.

“All right, here’s the problem.” He announced, opening the shower enclosure and reaching in to turn on the shower. Immediately water sprayed out in every direction from beneath the shower head. “I thought it just needed tightening but that only made it worse,” he waved his hand at a spanner lying on the floor.

I stepped up closer, turning the water down to a mere trickle while I checked it over. He was right, it wasn’t simply a loose showerhead, the problem was with the connecting pipe.  
“It might take me a while to determine where the leak is,” I warned him. “I can check it over now or, if you’d rather, I can just come back in the morning.” I knew a house this size would have another shower he could use in the meantime.  
He sat on the closed toilet and made a go ahead gesture. "Check it out now if you want to, I'm in no rush unless you want to get back to what you were doing when I called.

“I actually wasn’t doing much of anything, so let me have a look.” There was a plumbing access door on the outside wall of the enclosure so I set to work. “I’m going to have to replace a section of pipe. I’ll buy the parts and fix it tomorrow if that’s all right but I can patch it temporarily now, if you like.”

Bruce was still sitting watching. “Go for it. I need to have all of the plumbing and heating in this house updated but I kept putting it off. I didn’t expect to be spending this much time here.”

There was a curious note in his voice as he said that, something between regret and bitterness, and I didn’t comment. I’d cleaned up after working in the yard earlier in the day and hadn’t tied my long hair back so I tucked it beneath my collar and began mixing the cement compound I’d use to patch the leak. I felt my hosts eyes on my back as I worked and was trying not to let it bother me when he spoke again.

“Do you like working here, Janick?” It could have been an attempt at small talk on his part but it sounded as though he was genuinely interested.

“Yeah, I do." I gave an honest answer, "I love working outdoors and your grounds are beautiful.”  
I could see his reflection in the mirror on the wall next to where I was kneeling and saw him nod. "It was one of the reasons I bought the house. I didn't need another house, I was happy with my London place, but as it turns out it's a good thing I have it." He paused for a moment, then added, "It is rather isolated here, though."

"I expect it is, if you're used to the city." I agreed. He was silent for a minute and I stole another glance at his reflection. was looking off into space, an expression I couldn't pinpoint on his face. Sadness, maybe? I mentally shook myself. This was Bruce Dickinson, millionaire rock star, adored by hundreds of thousands of people the world over. What would he have to be sad about? I must have imagined it. I brushed the thought aside and stood, applying the temporary compound to the cracked water pipe.

“This will take about twenty minutes to dry then you should be able to use it. I’ll just write down the things I’ll need to buy to make permanent repairs then I’ll be out of your way.”

“Shouldn’t you stay to be sure it’s fixed?” he almost sounded hesitant.

I gave him a curious look but then smiled, giving a little shrug. “I can stay, sure. Like I said I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”

“Yeah,” he sighed a little. “Neither was I.”

A thought occurred to me suddenly. He sounded lonely! That was odd, but it was the distinct impression I got. It didn’t make sense, though. I knew from Rose that there was a personal assistant that came to the house almost every day, though I admittedly didn’t know exactly what a personal assistant does. I’d also seen a several other vehicles visiting as I worked about the grounds and of course he had Rose who seemed to be a combination cook and housekeeper. But of course all of them went home in the evenings. I realized that the two of us were probably the only two people on the estate at night.

I busied myself putting my tools back in the canvas carry-all and out of the corner of my eye I saw him go back into the bedroom, shaking his still damp shirt away from his body as he did. Just as he passed out of my sight he pulled the shirt off over his head and I got a brief glimpse of a muscular back. I looked away. That was something I definitely did not need to see.

I sat back on the floor to wait out the twenty minutes and momentarily Dickinson came back into the room. He’d pulled a satiny black robe on but left it untied and I looked away quickly again. It was too late, of course, and I knew it would appear odd if I avoided eye contact with him but his bared chest covered in thick straight hair was making me very uncomfortable. I tried to come up with an excuse to leave.  
“Mr. Dickinson…”

“Bruce.” He interrupted.

I looked at him questioningly, “Excuse me?”  
“Call me Bruce. He repeated. “Just because you work for me doesn’t mean you have to call me Mister, or Sir, or any of that nonsense. I know Rose calls me Mr. Bruce, which I think is ridiculous, but there’s no reason you can’t just call me Bruce. I’m no better than you are, after all.”

I must have looked doubtful because he sat back down on the toilet lid and grinned at me a little ruefully. “How much do you know about me, Janick?”

“Not as much as most people, probably.” I admitted. “I’ve been a little out of touch for a while now. I know you’re the vocalist for one of the most successful metal bands in the world but that’s about the extent of it, really.” I was sitting cross legged on the floor where I’d been organizing my tools and we were virtually at eye level so this time I knew I didn’t imagine the almost pained look that passed through his eyes.

“Yeah, well, that’s really all anyone knows. What people don’t know is that I’m from a pretty humble background. I grew up in a coal mining town and you probably had a better childhood than I did. So there isn’t one good reason you can’t call me by my first name.”

He was right, I hadn’t known any of that and he was insistent about not being called Mister Dickinson so I smiled. “All right, Bruce.”

He grinned at me again, “Thank you, Janick.” His tone was joking, and oddly familiar. It was the way people casually spoke to one another and it gave me a quick twinge of sadness. I had lost touch with everyone I had once thought of as a friend when my marriage fell apart.

I had to admit it didn’t feel as strange as I expected to call him Bruce, I only wished he would close his damned robe! He was still wearing his jeans but as absurd as it was I was still uneasy about seeing his bare chest. I sat looking down at my tool bag, going over list I’d made of what I would need to buy.  
I remembered something, “You said your shower cocked up again. It’s done this before?”

“Once or twice when I first bought the house but I never used it much until two weeks ago when I had to move out here.”

When he ‘had’ to move out here? That was an interesting choice of words but I didn’t comment on it, curbing my natural curiosity was becoming second nature to me these days.  
“Maybe I should have a look at the rest of the plumbing when I come to fix this tomorrow. I’m not a plumber but I can tell if it’s in bad shape and if you’re going to need a real plumber soon.”

He looked pleased at the suggestion. “That’s a good idea, if you wouldn’t mind.”

I kind of laughed. “I don’t mind, it is my job, after all!”

To my relief he stood then and tied his robe closed, “Good, good, I’d appreciate that. I normally keep on top of these things but…,” he trailed off with a vague hand gesture and abruptly changed the subject. Have you ever been married, Janick?”  
Oh shit! That was the last question on earth I wanted to answer. I knew it was an innocent question, an ordinary question people often asked someone they didn’t know well, so I tried to keep the reluctance out of my voice.  
“Yeah, once.” I didn’t elaborate and to my relief he didn’t ask for details.

“Divorced, eh? That’s rough, mate, sorry to hear that. Children?”  
“One son, he’s in school in London now.”  
Bruce nodded and fell silent. I was growing anxious to be get out of there before he could ask any more questions so I stood and lightly touched the plumbing patch. Damn it, it was still not set. I sighed and was relieved when Bruce retreated back into the bedroom area. I fleetingly had an impulse to blow on the stupid patch to make it dry faster, though I knew it wouldn’t help. I hadn’t felt so disconcerted by anyone’s presence in a long time. Now that he was out of the room I relaxed a bit and started a cursory inspection of the other plumbing in the room. I was lying on my back with my head in the cabinet under the sink when a shadow fell over me.

“How does everything look under there?”

“Old.” I answered truthfully. “Some of the plumbing here is new and some looks to be fifty years old.” I sat up and found myself a foot away from bare, hairy knees. Bruce had taken his jeans off and seemed only to be wearing the robe. Naturally he was getting ready for his shower but I fervently wished he’d waited until I’d left. I stood up quickly, knocking my elbow on the edge of the vanity.

“Ouch.” Bruce winced sympathetically. “You all right?”  
“Yeah.” I went to check the plumbing cement again and was very happy to see that it had hardened. Good thing, because if I stayed in there much longer other things would be hardened. I hadn’t been this close to a practically-naked man since the episode that was my downfall. I didn’t want to even think about that so I quickly turned on the water. There was no sign of moisture so I put the access panel back on.

“You’re good to go to now. I’ll run into town for the parts in the morning and have it permanently fixed by tomorrow night.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Janick. Goodnight.” He reached into the shower to adjust the temperature. As I was leaving the room I could see into the mirror again and before I could look away Bruce dropped his robe, stepping into the shower.  
Damn it!

Chapter Three

Leaving the house I walked back to my cottage, glad of the cool night air. Maybe taking this job was a huge mistake, but I had to work. Maybe I should quit and go on down to London to find some nondescript job bussing tables at a restaurant. I sighed. How did my simple, easygoing life get so fucking complicated? Part of me wanted to blame Sarah but I knew it wasn’t necessarily her fault. In many ways she was the victim in all of this. It was poetic justice that a moment of indiscretion led to my marrying her and a moment of indiscretion ended the marriage. I hadn’t been blissfully happy in my marriage but I felt I’d been doing okay. Once back home I sat and played my guitar until I felt I could finally get to sleep.  
I picked up the plumbing supplies as soon as the stores opened but I held back on going to the main house until after I saw the familiar vehicle of Bruce’s P.A. arrive. Rose let me in the back door and, as I had hoped, Bruce was closeted with his assistant in the downstairs study he used as an office. I replaced the section of pipe easily and was examining the rest of the plumbing as Bruce had requested when I heard the bedroom door close. Shit! I’d have been finished if he’s waited another five minutes.  
"Are you in here?" I heard Bruce call. "Janick?"  
"Just about finished," I called back out, hoping he wouldn't come into the bathroom but of course he did.  
“The shower is fixed?”  
“Yeah, it was an easy job. Some of the other pipes in here look like they’re just as old but I haven’t seen anything alarming. They should hold for a while yet.” I was putting my tools away ready to make my exit when Bruce said something that took me completely by surprise.  
“I heard you last night, mate.”  
I was puzzled. “Heard me?”  
He sat on the rim of his bathtub looking up at me. “Heard you playing guitar. I don’t sleep well some nights, I go for long walks and I passed your cottage last night. It was after 2:00 A. M. but you were still up playing the guitar.”  
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of how to respond to that. “Yeah, sometimes I can’t sleep very well either.”  
He sat there looking at me steadily. “You’re good.”  
I shrugged. “Maybe I used to be, but these days I just play to relax.”  
“I’m serious, you are good. You had a window open so I stood and listened for a while. Probably a rather creepy thing for me to do but the music fit in with the whole atmosphere, if you know what I mean. The night, the starlight, and sad music. I didn’t recognize anything you played, though.”

“No, you wouldn’t. I wrote it myself.” I picked up my carry-all and made to leave but he spoke again.  
“Janick?”  
“Yes?”  
“I hope you don’t feel as melancholy as your music sounds.”  
I had no idea what to say to that at all so I just nodded and took my leave, leaving him still sitting there looking after me with an unreadable expression on his face. There was something about that expression that haunted me for the rest of the day as I went about the outdoor tasks. At least, I told myself, Bruce had been fully clothed today.

Gradually over the next several days the vague sense of disquiet I’d felt since the night I’d patched Bruce’s shower faded. It helped that I saw nothing of the man. Rose told me that he was in the city for a couple of days when I joined her in the kitchen, she always made my dinner even when Bruce wasn’t at home and she usually stayed around for a cup of tea with me before heading home. I was comfortable with her by this time, she was at least in her mid-sixties and reminded me somewhat of my own late mother, warm hearted and chatty, cheerful to a fault.

“I’m a bit surprised he goes into the city so often considering he’s supposed to be resting.” I remarked in passing one evening as we sat over tea.

“Well….,” she hesitated a moment then went on, “the trips to the city are actually a part of his recovery. Psychologists appointments, you know.”  
I hadn’t thought of that and now I felt badly for having mentioned it. Now that I’d met Bruce and spoken with him, however, I had to admit to being interested in learning more about this mysterious illness, this depression Rose had alluded to. It wasn’t my business to ask and I had no intention of gossiping about my employer but I found myself feeling a little concerned for the man. He was legendary in the music world, widely considered to be one of the finest voices in rock, and I told myself that my concern was simply because it was a shame to see a such a man have to put his career on hold. I’d been reading a music periodical in the supermarket a few days before and there was brief mention that Bruce’s band had postponed recording their next album due to Bruce’s illness. Nothing specific was said regarding the nature of the illness but if the music world was anything like it had been when I was more connected with things I knew speculation would be rampant.  
It was a dreary rainy day later that week and I was replacing a cracked window pane in the garage when the automatic doors suddenly hummed into life, startling me. The familiar Jaguar pulled in and Bruce got out.  
“Janick.” He greeted me with relative cheer, unloading an overnight bag and a laptop computer bag from the back seat.  
“Can I give you a hand with those things?” I offered.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” He closed the car door and I went back to my work, assuming he’d continued on to the house so when he spoke again from directly behind me I visibly jumped.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he laughed a little, “I was just going to ask if you’d check the furnace over, make sure it’s ready for winter.”

“I’ve already done that… Bruce.” It still felt strange to call him by his first name, “Rose showed me the maintenance schedule Carstairs had and it had been a while since anything was done so I gave it a look.”  
“Great!” He hesitated for a moment longer and I got the impression he was going to say something else, but then he turned and left.  
That evening while I was returning to my cottage after dinner in the main house I saw a figure walking away from me down the klong drive that I recognized as Bruce even from a distance. It was twilight, I’d lingered after finishing my meal to chat with Rose as she finished putting away the clean dishes and I wondered where he could be going at this hour. I remembered him mentioning he sometimes took walks, something I could certainly relate to. I had been there for nearly a month and had never seen him walking around before but I dismissed it as none of my business and went home, I was expecting a phone call from Dustin that I didn’t want to miss. Not for the first time, I wished I had a mobile phone and resolved to look into getting one now that I had a steady income.

Dustin was his usual self. He was a lot like I had been at his age, exuberant and outgoing, letting his enthusiasms take him over and I was very proud of how well he was doing in school. He was pursuing a degree in teaching and I was glad that, although he was as musically inclined as I was, he’d elected not to pursue it as a career. It was funny but when I looked back on my twenty years of married life I always thought of Dustin and the time we had spent together and not of Sarah. It was surprising how little time she and I had actually spent doing things together in all those years.

Reminiscing about that put me in a reflective mood and after getting myself a beer I took my guitar outside to sit on the old bench that sat against the front of the house. Somehow when they had renovated the cottage they had neglected to put in an outside light but I didn’t mind, in fact I preferred the darkness and I didn’t need to see in order to play. I easily got lost in the music, the melodies flowing through my fingers like second nature, music I had written years before when I was still in a band, still single and full of dreams. Even though it was dark I closed my eyes as I played, a habit of mine, so I was quite startled when a voice sounded from close by.  
“Do you mind if I listen?”  
My eyes snapped open to see the silhouette of Bruce standing a few feet away.  
“Of course not, come and sit down if you like.”  
He came over and sat at the other end of the bench.  
“It’s so quiet this evening I could hear you from across the yard.”

“I didn’t know the sound carried that well, I hope it isn’t bothering you.”

“No, on the contrary I enjoy it. And you said you wrote this music yourself?”

“Yeah. A long time ago.”

“You don’t write music anymore.”

“No, not for a long time. It was part of my youth, I suppose, and I grew up.”

“But you haven’t grown beyond playing it and you have considerable talent. I should know, I’ve worked with some of the best guitarists in the business.”

He had, I realized. Not only were the two guitarists in his band excellent, I had also heard some of his solo projects and I remembered liking it very much.  
“Thank you.” I had never known how to take compliments, they embarrassed me because playing is just what came naturally to me.

“Play some more, please.” I saw him make a hand gesture for me to continue so after I mentally adjusted myself to the knowledge there was someone else listening, I began. A part of me was aware that I should feel awkward playing in the presence of an international star but for some reason I didn’t. In fact, I easily drifted into the never-never land that I usually got into while playing and I let that song slow into another. This song was one of the last I’d written and I remembered the circumstances well. Dustin had been around ten and after he went to bed every evening I always felt lost and alone. True, Sarah was always right across the room watching television with her knitting but I may as well have been alone, we only spoke when absolutely necessary. We simply had nothing to say to one another. One evening I retreated into the bedroom and sat on my bed – yes, we had separate beds – with my guitar and wrote this song.

It was a long song and I had all but forgotten Bruce’s presence when the last notes faded away and the sounds of an English summer evening took over. Remembering, I opened my eyes and looked to where he sat a few feet away. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now and I could see that he sat there perfectly still, then I saw him raise a hand and brush it across his face. I tried to think of another song to play to break the silence but I drew a blank, that song had a lot of emotional meaning for me and it was difficult to think of anything else at the moment.  
Then I heard a very quiet sound from Bruce, so quiet that if it hadn’t been such a still evening I wouldn’t have heard it at all, but once I did there was no mistaking it. It was a stifled sob.  
“Bruce?” I spoke without thinking and my voice came out very soft, I almost felt that I was intruding. “Are you all right?”

He dashed his hand across his face again but instead of answering my question he asked one of his own. “That song… that was one of the moving things I’ve ever heard. Why were you hurting so badly, Janick?”  
I was startled. To anyone but me, it should have been merely a song, a piece of music, good or bad but impersonal. Somehow Bruce had picked up on the state of mind I had been in when I wrote it. I opened my mouth to give him some offhand answer but I couldn’t.  
“It was just the circumstances I was in at the time, I suppose.” I heard myself say. I knew that wasn’t really an answer.  
“You should never have stopped writing music, Janick!” He sounded surprisingly emphatic and he turned toward me. “It’s a waste! To have the ability to write something like that and choosing not to, it’s almost a crime!”  
I must have made a scoffing sound because he scooted closer, his voice earnest and in the faint light I could see the glitter of his gaze. “I mean it! You are a gifted musician and songwriter yet you’re working as a maintenance man.” He paused a moment and when he spoke again his voice was softer. “Why, Janick?”

A dozen pat replies passed through my mind but when I replied I found myself speaking the truth. “I had to give up on those dreams, Bruce. I didn’t have a choice.”  
He was silent for a minute as though he was contemplating what I meant by that. “You have a choice now.”  
“How do you figure that? I’m fifty two years old and until I got the job here I was living in my car! I’m in no position to entertain pipe dreams.”

“Why not? You have a secure job and a place to live now, you have a job here as long as you want one. I want to hear more of your music, Janick. I want to help you with it.”

“Help me with it?” I didn’t know what he was getting at. “How?”

He didn’t directly answer my question. “When you started working here did Rose give you a confidentiality agreement to sign?”

“I just signed the standard tax forms. I don’t even know what a confidentiality agreement is.” I confessed.

“No, I suppose she wouldn’t have thought to give you one, at that. It’s an agreement I ask my employees to sign agreeing not to disclose any of my personal or private matters to the public. Most people in my position require one, you would be surprised at how many people get jobs with celebrities hoping to dig up something to sell to tabloids or entertainment shows, or even to write online in blogs or forums. Rose wouldn’t have expected you to have enough direct contact with me to make it necessary, but I wish she had.”

“Why?” This whole turn of the conversation was confusing me.

He was quiet for a minute, seemingly thinking. “Oh, to hell with it!” he finally said. “I may be crazy but I feel like I can trust you. Can we go inside to talk?”

I was still bewildered but I stood. “Of course, come on in.”

I’d left one lamp on but when we went inside it still seemed bright after outdoors. The cottage was furnished simply with a sofa, a chair, a dining table, and a bed and we sat on the sofa.  
“Okay, here’s the bottom line. I’m putting together another solo album. I know I’m supposed to be resting, recuperating from my so-called ‘nervous breakdown’, but I can’t just sit still and do nothing. I have lyrics, Janick. I have tons of lyrics but I’m struggling with writing the music. I want to know if you would be interested in working with me on that.”

I was stunned, not really accepting what he was saying. “I thought I read something years ago saying you wouldn’t be doing any more solo work.” It was all I could think of to say while my mind was grappling with his outrageous proposition.

He lowered his voice, turning toward me and tucking a foot beneath him. “That’s where the confidentiality part comes in. I’m not supposed to be doing any more solo work. The band knows nothing about it, but …..” he paused and looked off toward a corner of the room, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “I have things I have to get out of me, Janick! That song you played showed me you know what I mean by that. Music is therapy, better therapy than the stupid counseling sessions I’ve been going to in London three times a week.”

I found myself nodding slowly. I knew exactly what he meant. If it hadn’t been for music I don’t know how I would have survived the past two years.  
“Tell me about your lyrics.” I said

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Bruce didn’t stay long at my cottage that night. He outlined the theme of some of his lyrics in a general way then asked me if I could come to the main house the following evening.

“I know you work all day, I’ve watched you. I’ve seen you do everything from repair the lawn mower to paint the maintenance shed, but you do have those three kids to help you and I want to go over some of my ideas, unless you’re too tired.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I’ll be fine. I’m over there anyway, I usually eat in the kitchen with Rose.” I saw by his expression he hadn’t known that.

“Good. I have guitars you can use.” He stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He went to the door, turned to look at me again as though he wanted to say more, then he left.

I went through my work the next day making a sincere effort not to let myself get too excited by Bruce’s words. He was a member of the number one metal band in the world, there was no way my music would hold a candle to what he was used to working with. He had only heard it briefly on two occasions, after all, and besides, I’d resigned myself many years ago to the hard cold reality that my music would never amount to anything outside my own personal life.  
It was a day of catching up on odd jobs Rose had written down as needing done; repair the doors on some of the kitchen cabinets, re-attach some loose carpeting in the first floor hallway, touch up the paint on the door trim on the garage, but these tasks filled the day and before I realized it, it was after five and the guys I’d had weeding the shrubbery all day reported that they were finished for the day. I went back to my cottage to have a quick shower, grabbed my guitar, and went over to see what Rose was serving.  
She chatted with me as usual as I ate, unloading the dishwasher and scouring the sink as she talked, and it was some time before she remarked on the guitar. I briefly explained, telling her what Bruce had suggested.

“I had no idea you were a musician, Janick!” she cried, smiling widely. “Why didn’t you say anything?”  
“Because I’m not a musician,“ I laughed, “I’m a handyman, a groundskeeper, and lots of other things but I’m not a musician!”  
“Well, Mr. Bruce seems to have a different opinion,” she pointed out, “and he knows a bit about it, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure he’ll change his opinion tonight.” I told her. “Where can I find him, by the way?”

“I think he’s in the study, he has exercise equipment in there and he said he was going to work out after dinner. Let’s go and find out.” She dried her hands on her apron and walked with me through the lower floor, coming to a room I’d only glanced in when she had given me the initial tour of the house. She tapped on the door, listened for a minute, then turned the handle, peeking inside. This room was probably originally a study, it had large windows across the rear wall overlooking the gardens, but now it was filled with a number of random items. I saw all sorts of computer and home office equipment, a desk covered with papers, and a television but the rear section was devoted to home exercise equipment. Bruce didn’t answer the knock and still wasn’t aware of our presence because he was using a stair-climber and had earphones on.

Rose walked over and tapped his arm but he didn’t jump as I expected him to do, he simply pulled off the earphones and slowed the machine to a halt.

“Damn, is it that time already? Sorry, Janick. Come on in. Rose, you going home now?”  
She told him she was and after she left Bruce came over to me. He had been exercising in shorts and a sleeveless tee, his skin damp with perspiration, and he gestured for me to come all the way into the room.

“I’m going to run up for a quick shower, but,” he picked up a spiral notebook from the disarray on the desk, “have a look at some of these lyrics, it will give you an idea of what I’m shooting for here.”

I laid my guitar down and sat on the couch as he indicated and he left, saying he’d be back in ten minutes. Once he was gone I felt a little more comfortable and relaxed a bit, opening the notebook.

I was so engrossed in what I was reading I had no idea how much time had passed and wasn’t aware when Bruce came back into the room until he sat down on the other end of the couch. He didn’t say anything, letting me finish reading. When I did, I looked up at him. I was speechless. He looked a little anxious, like he was afraid I hadn’t liked what I’d read.

“Holy shit, man!” I finally found words, though they weren’t the words I intended to say.

He still looked uncertain. “What do you think?”

“I think this is incredible! These are totally different from anything I’ve ever heard you sing.”  
“Yeah, I know,” he admitted almost apologetically. “I know it’s different from the material I put on my last solo album, that wasn’t much different than I do with the band. But I can’t write like that now, not in the frame of mind I’ve been in.”

I wanted to ask a dozen questions about that but I didn’t know where to begin. The lyrics I’d just read had been deep, introspective, and at times brooding. They were also well crafted and almost beautiful. But I had to wonder about the mindset he’d been in when he wrote them. “And you called my music melancholy.” I muttered, but he heard me.

“Maybe that’s why I think your music would be perfect for these lyrics.”

“You may be right but I’m not sure I can do justice to the emotions you’re expressing here.” I admitted.

“I think you can, and I’d like to find out. So what do you say? Are you interested in working with me on this?”

I didn’t have to think about it for long. I already felt the pull, the itch to wrap some music around his words. It was a challenge and in spite of my reservations that I wasn’t good enough, I was excited about it.  
“Hell yeah!”

He broke into a grin. “All right, then. Let’s get started!”  
After an hour I forgot I was with a renowned rock star, I forgot he was my boss, I forgot that he was supposedly severely depressed and that I was one step up from a homeless vagabond. We immediately tackled the lyrics he felt were the most promising and it was like the music was coming into my mind and flowing through my fingers without conscious thought. I would read the words and somehow notes came to me, chords and riffs that I was anxious to try on an electric.  
Bruce was evidently thinking along similar lines. “wait a minute, hang on,” he said after we’d been there for almost two hours. He jumped up from the couch and went to a door off to the side of the room, going inside. A minute later he emerged with a Fender Strat and a 40 watt practice amp, which he plugged in. He handed me the guitar, attaching the lead to the amp, and sat back down. “Okay, let’s hear that last bit again.”

Oh, it felt good to hold a Strat again. It had been almost ten years since I sold the last of my stage equipment, keeping only the Gibson acoustic. I ran my hand over it appreciatively.  
“If you play, Bruce, why do you need me?”

He made a wry face. “Because I play like shit. Besides, I don’t have your knack. You look as though you aren’t even putting any effort in it yet every note you play seems to fit.”

“Not every one!” I laughed. We had already changed and discarded quite a bit.  
He laughed too, “well, enough of them do.”

I tested the tuning, adjusted it a bit, and tried a few experimental licks. After a few minutes the Strat felt so natural in my hands that I couldn’t understand how I had ever functioned without it. Bruce was writing down notes in the margins of his lyric sheets as I played and before either of us realized it, it was nearly midnight.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to get back to your place and go to bed.” Bruce set aside his notebook, sounding almost regretful that we were stopping.

“I should. Tomorrow is the day we mow the lawns.” It took three of us on three different sized tractors to be able to finish the extensive lawn in one day.  
“I can let you off the hook for that, you know. Hire someone else to help out.”

That surprised me but I didn’t have to think about it. “No, no, that’s my job, it’s what I’m here for. If you want to keep going with this we can get together after dinner again.”

He sighed. “I can’t tomorrow night, I have to go into the city to see… someone and I won’t be back till the next day. I am anxious to get back to this, though. After supper the day after tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” I stood, reluctantly laying the Strat down I couldn’t resist running my hand along the shining lacquered body.

Bruce noticed. I was coming to realize he missed very little. “Why don’t you take the guitar and amp back to your place, maybe you can play around with some of this stuff tomorrow night.”

It crossed my mind to politely refuse but then I looked down at the Strat again. “Okay, if you don’t mind.”

I did play the Strat the next evening after I returned from dinner, I ended up playing it until late in the night. It took me back thirty years in time, back to when I was twenty years old and my mates and I were touring all over the northeast with our band playing dance halls and clubs. Back when life was full of hope and promise and the feeling that anything was possible. I knew I was experiencing some sort of mid-life crisis but it didn’t trouble me. I had my reasons for feeling wistful but I wasn’t bitter, it wasn’t my nature, and anyway it was hard to feel anything negative while holding that guitar.

I was looking forward to working with Bruce again the following night. I knew he’d returned from London, I‘d seen the blue Jag pull into the garage while I was repairing cracked mortar in the walkways. I took the Strat and amp with me when I went over for dinner but as Rose was filling my plate she was shaking her head.  
“I’m not sure Mr. Bruce will be feeling up to working on music tonight, Janick. He came home in a right foul mood, going straight to the study and slamming the door. He didn’t even show up for dinner.”

Oh?” It would be disappointing if he didn’t, and how would I know if he was expecting me or not?

“These trips to London are hard on him.” Rose shook her head, pouring herself a cup of tea and sitting down opposite me.

“He mentioned something about going to counseling sessions.” I commented.

“Yes, well those aren’t so bad, they sometimes even cheer him up. But this trip was …..,” she trailed off and I remembered Bruce talking about the confidentiality agreements his employees signed. Obviously Rose was abiding by an agreement like that and while I was curious I didn’t want to press her into saying something she felt she shouldn’t.

After dinner I bid Rose goodnight, grabbed the equipment, and made my way to the study, the room we had used the other night. I tapped on the door and this time Bruce heard the knock, he opened the door abruptly but didn’t move aside to let me in.

“Janick! Oh, shit, I forgot. Um, I don’t feel like working on the songs tonight. I’m sorry.”

He looked like shit. He was a man with a heavy beard and it looked as though he hadn’t shaved since yesterday, plus his eyes were red and tired. In fact they looked suspiciously moist, almost as if he had been crying.

“It might take your mind off your troubles to work a bit.” I suggested. I don’t know what possessed me to say it, it was simply the first thing to cross my mind.

“No.” he sounded decisive. “No, I….I’ll let you know when I want to get back at it. If I ever do…” he muttered almost as if to himself.  
I seemed to be determined to speak out of turn tonight. “You have to, Bruce! The material is too good to go to waste….”

“No!” He interrupted me, unmistakably angry now. “Get out of here, leave me alone!” and he slammed the door in my face.

I was stunned by the abruptness of it. It hurt. It shouldn’t have, I’d been subject to far worse behavior. I’d been shunned and called names and ordered to move on by the police half a dozen times over the past year or so, but this really hurt. I set the amp and guitar carefully by the wall near the door and left.  
I walked back to my cottage and had a beer. Then I had another. After four I took my acoustic and sat on my sofa, trying to lose myself in the music but it didn’t work as well tonight. I should have known better, though. I should never have allowed the dream of making music back into my life again. I should have learned my lesson last time. After a couple more beers I started to play, but this time it wasn’t one of the songs I’d written years ago. It was something I’d been thinking of for Bruce’s songs only now it was flowing freely, I was pouring my regrets and my anger and my disappointment into the music and I closed my eyes and let it take me over.

“That’s beautiful, Janick.”

I opened my eyes. I’d left my front door open in the warm evening and Bruce stood on the threshold. He’s shaved and showered, his shaggy chestnut hair was still damp, and he was looking at me with a strangely intense expression.

“It’s beautiful and it’s sad.” When I didn’t speak he stepped inside, then he stepped closer. “Janick, you’re crying!”

“No, I’m not!” I quickly brushed at my face. My cheeks were damp, though I hadn’t realized it.

He came all the way in then and sat on the couch next to me but he didn’t comment on my tears. “I came to apologize for being such an arse earlier. There’s no excuse for it, it isn’t your fault I had a shitty day.”

“It’s all right, it doesn’t matter.”

“If it doesn’t matter why were you crying.”

“Why were you crying when I knocked on your door earlier?” I countered.

He looked surprised. “What makes you think I was?”

I merely shrugged and looked away. I wasn’t willing to say anything to make him snap at me again.

After a moment I heard him sigh. “Well, you’re right. I was. It’s no reason to be rude to you, though. I’m sorry. And you didn’t have to leave the guitar and amp, I wanted you to use them.”

“No, it’s probably best I don’t keep them here.”

“Why?”

I didn’t answer, I was still looking off to the corner of the room, then to my surprise I felt him move closer to me on the couch and touch my arm.  
“Janick? Why?” His voice was quiet, even gentle.

“I have no business having things like that around, I shouldn’t even be using them. I shouldn’t be helping you with your music. It always ends badly when I think I can get back into music again.” That was more than I intended to say and I stopped talking then.

Bruce was quiet for a long minute and I finally looked over at him. He was looking at me with that serious expression again. He has bright, intelligent eyes and now they were filled with compassion and empathy.  
“We all have stories, you know. And we all have things we want to hide from. Something is haunting you, Janick. Maybe it would be good to talk about it.”

“It would be good for you to talk about whatever is troubling you too.” I pointed out.

His gaze didn’t waver. “Fair enough.” He drew in a breath. “I’m going through a divorce. A particularly rough divorce. And today I signed the final papers. It’s been over for a long time, we’ve been living separately for the past year. But now it’s official.”

I had been so out of touch with the music scene that I hadn’t even known he was married.  
“I’m sorry. I know that’s a very painful time for most people.”

“You said you’re divorced too. Wasn’t it painful for you?”

I tried to find a way to explain it. “No, not in that way. The painful thing was the reason she divorced me.”

“Another man?”

I almost laughed. “No, no. well….. not on her part.”

Bruce looked a little confused and I decided to hell with it, I’d gone this far I may as well tell him the rest. I hadn’t talked to anyone about this in almost two years but then I never had anyone who would listen.

“I got married because I got drunk one night and got her pregnant. It’s as simple as that. Her brother was the drummer in the band I was playing in and he…he was also my boyfriend.”

Bruce’s eyes widened a little but he didn’t say anything. I felt like someone turned on a tap and all the words were suddenly running out of me. “She never knew about that, she thought we were just mates. He backed off when I married her. She was his sister, after all, he wasn’t willing to carry on with her husband. And she was a nice girl. She still is a nice lady but we had absolutely nothing in common apart from our son. I did right by her, though. I quit the band and got a real job and did everything that was expected of me. Her brother moved to America to start a band in L.A. and I didn’t see him for almost seventeen years. Then he came home.”

 

Bruce’s expression showed that he had an inkling of where I was going with this but he nodded for me to go on. “What can I say, Bruce? He came to visit her, he told me the band he’d been with in the States folded and he wanted to get our old one going again. I wanted to get back into music more than anything and we started auditioning guys, using my garage as a rehearsal place. But one night…..” I trailed off, reliving that night in my memory, then I forced myself to go on.  
“One night after the other guys left something happened. It was my fault, I suppose. I was trying to recapture how I felt in the old days. Playing music again made me feel like no time at all had passed so when he…..,” I sighed. “Well, Sarah caught us. She came out to the garage to see why I was taking so long and she caught me with her brother. She threw him out, then she threw me out.” I didn’t add that she called me every name in the book that night, that she cursed me and insulted me and threatened to never let me see my son again. That had been an empty threat, he was seventeen years old, old enough to make up his own mind.

 

Chapter Five

 

Bruce sat quietly listening and when I finished I sat back on the couch and closed my eyes. Talking about it had been cleansing but I felt exhausted somehow.  
“I knew we weren’t all that different.” He finally said. I raised my head and looked at him. That was not what I expected him to say at all. “I suppose I should tell you my story now. It’s the least I can do, I can only guess how hard it was for you to tell me what you just told me. I’ve been married for fourteen years and I have a son and a daughter, thirteen and nine years old. I was already well known when I met her, she knew what my life was like. Sometimes we’re on the road for eight or nine months at a time, and a few years after I got married I started venturing out into other businesses. I don’t like sitting still and she should have known that too. But a little over a year ago with no warning at all she told me she’s had enough of being on her own. She wanted a divorce. She wanted custody of the kids and half of my assets. I don’t care about the money, she can have that, but I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for joint custody of the kids. I see them whenever I go to London and it’s hard, Janick,” He drew a shaky breath, “it’s so hard! They’re old enough to know their mother and I aren’t together but not old enough to understand why. Last month my doctor told me I was under too much stress. I wasn’t been sleeping well, I wasn’t eating right, I couldn’t concentrate. He ordered me to take six months off and relax. But I can’t just sit around doing nothing, Janick! It’s driving me insane!” His voice rose in frustration at the end and I instinctively put my hand on his arm to calm him.

He seemed startled at my touch, he had been so wrapped up in what he was saying I think he forgot there was another person present. He gave me a wan smile. “So you see, we’re not all that different. And at least you know why your wife divorced you.”

“Yeah!” I sounded more bitter than I intended, “because I’m a fag!”

“No, you are not!” he said vehemently, “I hate that word! I suspect you’re bisexual like me, and there isn’t one damn thing wrong with that!”

“You’re bisexual?” That burst out of me before I could stop myself.  
“Yeah, well I’m a rock star, after all!" he said a little mockingly, making quotation marks with his fingers, "Been everywhere, done everything. Although to tell the truth I already liked blokes before I became a singer. "

"Does your wife know this?" I was trying to comprehend this.

He made a vague gesture. "I mentioned it when I met her and haven't mentioned it since. She’s never asked me about it.”

In a way I could understand that. Marrying a rock star would mean accepting lots of things one may not necessarily like.

“Anyway, Janick,” Bruce stood up so I stood too, “I felt like I owed you an apology. I do want to keep working on the music, if you’re willing. I’ve told the band’s manager I want to do another solo album, I’m allowed to according to my contract, so I want to get some material organized.” He gave a little laugh as we walked to the door, “He doesn’t realize how different it’s going to be from my usual stuff, of course, but he’ll find out. Can you come by tomorrow night?”

“Of course. And thanks for coming all the way out here to apologize, you didn’t have to do that.’

He turned to face me. “Yeah, I did. I’ve been blowing up like that at people too often recently and it isn’t fair. I like working with you, it felt like I was doing something productive for the first time since I’ve been on this so-called rest break.” He reached out and grasped my forearm briefly and left, leaving me standing there in my doorway somewhat dazed. That had been a very unexpected and unusual visit.

Still, the next evening and after helping Rose mop the kitchen floor I went on into the house to find the study door open. Bruce was once again exercising, it seemed to be an after-dinner routine of his, but he was on a treadmill this time and saw me at the door.  
“Janick!” he greeted me with a smile, gesturing for me to come in while he powered down the machine. “You wanna set up while I grab a quick shower?”  
I saw that he had a larger amp set up in the corner as well as an electronic keyboard. The notebooks with the lyrics were still lying on the coffee table where we had left them. “Go ahead, take your time.” I told him, trying not to notice that he was obviously wearing nothing beneath his exercise pants. He left the room, stripping his shirt off as he went, and I forced myself to turn away, busying myself connecting the amp to the Strat and keyboard.

The amp this time was a more powerful Marshall combo and I couldn’t resist trying it out, first closing the door because I knew it would be loud. I tinkered with it for a minute then launched into Whole Lotta Love, leaning my head back as I got into it and letting myself move to the music. I let the song flow into Godzilla and felt the joy flow through me, an almost forgotten joy that I’d once thrived on. I didn’t open my eyes until the last note died away and saw that Bruce had returned. He was standing watching me with an unreadable look on my face but when I stopped playing he immediately clapped.

“Don’t stop playing, I want to hear some more. Play one of your original compositions.” He perched on the arm of the couch.

I thought for a moment then launched into a song I ‘d written for the band many years ago, a hard driving straight -up rock song that I hadn’t played in years because it wasn’t intended for an acoustic. It came back to me so easily it was though I’d been playing it every day I let it flow through me and take me to the place that music has always transported me, a free, joyous place , and always I had to dance. I didn’t do it consciously, it was like an instinct to move with the music, I almost couldn’t control it. This was a rather long song, over eight minutes and when it was over I opened my eyes, becoming aware of my surroundings again. I found Bruce standing just a few feet away from me, a look in his eyes that I couldn’t identify.

“Janick,” he spoke after a moment, “you are fucking magic! It’s a damned shame to throw this kind of talent away! You have to use it, you have to play!”  
The intensity in his words was unexpected, he sounded almost angry that I had given up music, and there was something else in his manner, something I couldn’t put my finger on that disconcerted me but also intrigued me. He watched me with his bright amber eyes even as we went to sit on the couch, and throughout the evening I would chance to look up from my guitar or from the lyric sheets to find him looking at me with that same piercing look.

By the end of the evening I was too involved in the songwriting process to notice it anymore. Somewhat to my surprise, Bruce and I worked well together. We had very similar visions for the songs we were working on and easily bounced ideas and suggestions off one another. Occasionally he would play out a few notes on the keyboard but for the most part he was content to let me create the music as he adjusted the lyrics and tried the vocals in different keys to see which worked best. His voice was incredible even when he wasn’t trying, even when he was just tossing verses around his voice blew me away.  
By the time we quit for the evening it was close to midnight but to my surprise instead of showing me out Bruce vanished for a minute as I was tidying up the equipment cords and returned with beer.

“Sit down, Janick, want a beer?”

Never one to turn down a beer I accepted it and sat with him on the couch. I was relaxed in his presence by now and was starting to feel a kind of rapport with him, he had a sense of humor and affable way about him when he was working on music that was quite different from the edgy, irascible man of the day before. We had been discussing different artists and different styles all through the evening, gleaning influences from some and being careful not to sound too much like others, and that conversation continued as we drank our beer. When at last I headed back home after midnight I felt happy for the first time in a long time. I was working on music again and I had someone who shared my passion for it, an intelligent man who knew my deepest secret and still treated me no differently.

I got together with Bruce almost every evening for the next two weeks unless he had to spend the night in London for some reason or other. He had dozens of songs that held promise, strong lyrics that almost always centered in some way about personal reflection and self-discovery and I was finding it easier than I thought to adapt them to the hard - hitting rock music we both wanted for them. On one of these evenings Bruce brought up something I hadn't even considered.  
"You know you will get full credit and royalties if this album happens, right?"

I looked up from the guitar in surprise. "I don't care about credit, Bruce. I'm having too much fun working with you on this ."

He made a dismissive gesture. “Well, you’ll get the credit anyway. And royalties.”  
Bruce had a small tape recorder and had been recording different riffs I’d been trying out for the song we were currently working on but he put it down on the coffee table. “I feel like a beer. Want one?”  
“You know I do!” I laughed and he grinned, going to the kitchen and bring us back some.  
“I should put a mini-fridge in here,” he commented, sitting back down and handing me my beer. “I’ve been holed up here for over a month now, I might as well make it more comfortable.”  
“This place is pretty damned comfortable already .” I joked.  
He grinned but the grin faded. “I suppose it is, it’s a nice house. I resent being practically ordered to stay here and rest up, though.”  
“You’ve been keeping yourself pretty busy.” I was comfortable enough with him by now to make this type of small talk.  
He sighed, taking a swig from his bottle. “I suppose, but there are a lot of things I need to attend to and Josh can’t handle all of it.” Josh was his Personal Assistant. “I should have told both my doctor and my manager to go fuck themselves.”  
I’d learned that his manager had backed up the doctor one hundred percent in ordering Bruce to take time off to rest. He had been impossible to work with, apparently, snapping at the other band members and having vehement arguments with the bass player, the band’s founder and ostensibly the leader.  
“Granted, I haven’t spent time around you for very long but it seems to me that you are in better spirits than you were when I started working here. So maybe slowing down like this is good for you even if you don’t notice it yourself” I told him.  
He looked surprised. “Do you think so? Maybe. Working here with you has helped me a lot. I feel like I’m accomplishing something and I’m also enjoying myself. You’re good company, Janick.” He was leaning back against the back of the couch, one arm along the back and one leg tucked beneath him, and I looked up again to see him looking at me.  
I didn’t know how to respond to his comment so I just smiled but his look remained the same, the bright brown eyes locked on me. I felt strange, not exactly apprehensive, just a little ill-at-ease at times when he looked at me. After a moment he seemed to shake himself out of whatever he had been thinking so intently about and started to talk about his idea of releasing a solo album now though it had been nearly ten years since his last one.

"My manager thinks I’m crazy. He hasn’t said so, but I’ve been with him long enough to know how he thinks. He knows once the band hears about this they won’t be happy. None of them have the option in their contracts to do solo work, it was something I negotiated when I first joined because I wasn’t sure then which direction I wanted to go, whether I’d stay with the band or move on after a few years."

“Yet you’ve been with the band for almost thirty years.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess that means I must be pretty happy with it, huh?” he laughed a little. “Still, if I hadn’t done solo work now and then throughout that time I think I’d have felt stifled.”

I nodded. I knew all about feeling stifled. Over the past few days Bruce and I had gradually started talking as we worked, not just about the music but about anything that came to mind. I remembered Rose saying when I first started that Bruce was an educated man with many interests and I was finding that to be true. I’d become an avid reader after I gave up music, it gave me a way to fill the empty hours when I wasn’t working or spending time with Dustin, and I found that I was able to talk to him about a wide variety of topics from current events to history and literature. I enjoyed these talks, we sometimes got into some rather deep discussions and I was developing a growing respect for Bruce on a number of levels.

Then of course there was the fact he was remarkably handsome. I’d been conscious of it ever since the night I fixed his shower though I was able to push it to the back of my mind most of the time. Physically he was the exact opposite of me, I was thin and fair skinned with blonde hair and gray eyes and he was shorter, more muscular, and his hair and eyes were brown. I didn’t think too much about it but I found myself looking at him far more often than I knew I should be. I wasn’t doing it consciously but when I forced myself to look away and focus on what I was going I would still find myself looking back at him a few minutes later. I was annoyed at myself every time I caught myself looking but I’d always end up doing it again.

Bruce didn’t mention it often but I knew he was still fighting a legal for joint custody of his kids and I could tell he was growing very frustrated by it. Sometimes when he’d spent the day or had to stay overnight in London he came home in a black mood. He didn’t say much and would beg off from working on the music so on those nights I left him alone, going straight back to my cottage after supper and spending the evening reading, playing guitar, or talking to my son on the phone.  
We had been working on the music for almost three weeks when he went to London for two nights, the first time he stayed away more than one night since I’d been there. Rose had called me to the main house because she was having problems with the state-of-the-art washing machine. It was a rather complicated computerized appliance and I didn’t fully understand it myself so we were figuring it out together in the laundry room off the kitchen when we heard the front door slam. It was unusual for the sound to carry through the house so we knew the door had to have been slammed violently hard and we exchanged a look.

“Mr. Bruce is home,” Rose sighed, “and it sounds like he’s in one of his moods. Apparently things didn’t go well in the city.”  
“He doesn’t talk to me about that sort of thing so I don’t know anything about his trips to the city, “ I told her, “ but I’ll go along with your guess that it didn’t go well.”  
We listened for a moment as the sound of someone stomping up the stairs and slamming an upstairs door reached us and Rose shook her head.

“He doesn’t tell me about his business in town either.” She admitted, “but I think he had a number of things scheduled this trip and that’s why he had to stay the extra night. I’m afraid some of it concerns his legal battle over his children and that’s heartbreaking.”  
“You must have known his wife and kids before the divorce,” I ventured.

She nodded. “The kids, yes. They were very little when he bought the house and they would come out for weekends whenever he wasn’t working, which wasn’t often I’m afraid. But the wife…well, I’ve met her, of course, but she didn’t come here as often. She’s a beautiful lady, very glamourous, but I think it’s too quiet here for her, she likes the excitement of the city.”

I nodded, both in understanding of what she said but also in acknowledgement of what she’d left unsaid, because there was clear disapproval in her tone when talking about Bruce’s ex-wife. Having worked for him for fourteen years Rose was obviously fond of Bruce and I suspected anything that distressed him would meet with her disapproval.

Rose was unusually quiet as she served my dinner, it was almost as if we picked up on Bruce’s mood and I retreated back to my cottage as soon as she left for home. On the nights I wasn’t able to work with Bruce on music I sometimes worked on it on my own, things would occur to me throughout the day and I would try them out that evening, but this particular evening I wanted to escape from everything for a while and I settled in with a book and a beer. I was deep in a rather complicated outline of Norse mythology when I heard a tap at my door.  
At first I thought I imagined it. It was a rainy, windy night and I assumed it was the wind but then I heard it again so I got up to investigate.

I opened the door to find Bruce on my doorstep with beads of moisture in his hair and an uncertain, hesitant look on his face.  
“Bruce! I didn’t expect to see you tonight, we don’t usually work when you’ve just returned from London. Come in!” I stepped back and held the door wide.

He came in. “I know, I know we don’t and I’m not here to work. I just didn’t want to sit around the house by myself tonight.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” I was, I realized. I had been missing him over the past few days. “Sit down. Want a beer?”

“I could use one, thanks.” He sat on one end of the sofa and I went to the fridge, getting us two cold Coronas and handing him one.  
”I heard you come home earlier,” I told him, sitting down. “I got the distinct feeling something didn’t go well in London.”

He let a sort of snort of laughter escape him. “You could say that. It’s funny though, because six months ago I would have been elated if this happened.”

“You want to talk about it?” I asked. My voice sounded soft to my own ears, the compassion I was feeling for him for whatever was troubling him coming through.  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, why not? Maybe it will help me get my thoughts straight.” He paused then for a healthy sip of beer and seemed to be searching for words to go on but I didn’t press him. Finally he looked up at me with that intense look he often got. “I had the kids for the night last night at my London house. This afternoon when I brought them home to their mother’s she said she wanted to talk to me. I was hoping she’d finally reached some sort of compromise on the joint custody issue. I sure as hell didn’t expect anything like what she sprung on me!”  
He took another drink, shaking his head as if in bewilderment, then her turned to face me. “She said she wants to get back together with me, Janick!”  
I suddenly felt like all the air had been punched out of my lungs, a kind of stunned, almost numb feeling washed over me. I couldn’t take the time to analyze why his words had hit me so hard so I just nodded.

He went on, “She gave me this big long explanation about how she was confused and she’s sorry and all and it dawned on me right then and there that I didn’t want to get back together with her! The idea holds no appeal for me at all! In fact, the very thought pissed me off. First she comes out of the blue and says she wants a divorce , now she changes her mind!”

I finally found my voice, though my mind was still reeling. “What did you do?”

He gave a rueful laugh then. “I lost my temper. I’m known for flying off the handle but this time I think I was entirely justified.” He shook his head again, “I probably shouldn’t have done it, it will only make the custody battle worse, but I couldn’t help it. How dare she! She acted like she was doing me a favor, like it never occurred to her I’d refuse. But Janick, I just don’t feel that way about her anymore. I don’t feel much of anything for her beyond her being the mother of my children. Maybe I never did, I don’t know. I’m as confused as hell right now.”

“I can understand that.” I told him. I tried to imagine how I would have reacted if Sarah wanted to reconcile with me but I couldn’t even imagine it. I would never do it, I knew that beyond a doubt. “Maybe…maybe you should give yourself some time to cool down, maybe you’ll feel differently if you aren’t so angry.” I suggested. It had been hard for me to get those words out.

He shook his head decisively. “No, no….I’m not going to change my mind about it. I’m just having trouble understanding why she’s jerking me around like this. Did your wife ever try to manipulate you like that, Janick?”

I felt I owed him an honest answer, after all he had been honest with me. “No. She was never interested enough in what I did to try to manipulate me into doing anything differently.”  
Bruce looked at me and shook his head. “That’s just as hard to understand as the mind games Penny is trying to pull. How could any woman take someone like you for granted that way? You’re intelligent, you’re fun to be with, God knows you’re good looking…I don’t understand it. I just don’t understand women, I guess.” He drained his beer and I took the opportunity to get up and get him another one, aware that he’d just referred to me as good looking. To the best of my knowledge, no one had ever said that about me before.

We sat up late that night in my cottage talking, and I sensed a shift in the dynamic between us. We were talking more like mates now than as employer and employee or as two collaborators writing music. We didn’t talk any more about our marriages, we didn’t talk about anything in specific, but I could tell Bruce felt better for having talked to me and I was glad he had come. It would have been very unhealthy for him to sit alone in that big house going over and over his ex-wife’s behavior, driving himself crazy about it.  
It was close to midnight when he stood and, almost reluctantly it seemed, said he should be getting back to the house. I walked with him to the door.  
“Are you going to be all right alone tonight, Bruce?” I was a little concerned about him, afraid he would fall into a depression once he was alone.

He smiled, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But…,” he looked at me, his amber eyes earnest, “thanks for letting me come over and spill my guts, you know? I feel better now that I’ve vented.”

I felt a funny warmth inside because I knew he meant it, he did feel better. “I’m here anytime, Bruce. So are we working on the music tomorrow after dinner?”

“Absolutely! Goodnight Janick.” He looked at me for a long moment, then turned and walked out into the mist.

Chapter Six  
It was late autumn now and there had been frost on the ground some mornings so my work intensified in the gardens to prepare everything for winter. Rather than having the boys come three times a week to help I now needed them five days a week and we put in long days, often until six in the evening. Rose generally went home at five so she had taken to leaving my dinner for me in the kitchen and as soon as I finished I joined Bruce, usually in the study, to continue working on his songs.

About a week after his unexpected visit to my place Bruce had another overnight trip to London and when he mentioned it to me the day before I was immediately apprehensive, remembering how his last trip had upset him. He never spoke to me about these trips before so I was a little surprised when he addressed the subject.  
“Don’t look so worried, Janick. This time I’m only going to some meetings at the record company and taking the kids overnight. I won’t be seeing Penny at all, I’m picking them up straight from school.”  
I laughed a little. “I wasn’t aware I looked worried.”

He grinned. “You did. You have very expressive eyes, you know. It’s easy to read your mood. Everyone’s eyes should be as unguarded and honest as yours.”  
We were sitting on the sofa, notebooks and lyric sheets spread out between us, but when I looked up I caught him looking at me with the expression I had been noticing more and more often.  
“I wish I could read your thoughts as easily as you seem to be able to read mine,” I said it jokingly but I was half serious. To my surprise he didn’t smile back and, if anything, the look only deepened.  
“No, you don’t.” he said quietly. There was something in his tone I couldn’t identify but I found my eyes locked to his for a long minute, unable to look away. I didn’t respond to his comment, something told me he wouldn’t explain what he meant even if I asked and a part of me wondered if I even wanted to know. After a short awkward silence he stood abruptly and got us another beer.  
“Actually,” he said when he returned to the room, “I’m meeting with my manager some others from the record company tomorrow too, trying to iron out details for this album. They’re reluctant to let me do it. I’ve sent them a sample of what we’ve been working on here and they think it’s too far removed from what the fans are used to hearing from me.”  
It was a little startling to hear that he’d sent record executives in London some of what we were doing, it felt like as close as I’d ever gotten to being a professional songwriter but I wasn’t too daunted by the idea. I felt what we'd done was strong and after all, this was why we were writing it. In another of the uncanny moments where he seemed to read my mind, Bruce smiled.

“They all liked the music, though. They asked who’d written it because they know that isn’t my strong suit and I told them I’m collaborating with a friend who used to have a band.”

I merely nodded, but when he said the word ‘friend’ I realized that that is exactly what we’d become, we were friends. Our nightly sessions felt a lot like jamming with my mates used to feel, there was an easy feeling of camaraderie between us that had grown since the night he visited me and it seemed we had a lot of common interests even outside of music, as strange as I once would have found that. When he had told me he was just a common man from a humble background I’d brushed it off as a platitude but it was becoming evident that it was true, in many ways we were very much alike.

I always missed seeing Bruce when he was away, not just working with him but just spending time with him talking and hanging out. As much time as I’d spent on my own in my life I should have been accustomed to it but for some reason it felt different now when Bruce was away. I hadn’t had many friends while I was married and Sarah and I never talked unless we had to but now I found myself thinking ‘oh, I’ll have to tell Bruce that’ or ‘I wonder how Bruce feels about this’ as I went about my day. Spending the evening alone in my little cottage that night I tried to distract myself by reading or by working out a piece of music I wasn’t entirely happy with but my thoughts kept drifting back to Bruce. I missed him when he wasn’t around, pure and simple. I’d gotten used to him by now and I was no longer bothered by finding him attractive. He was attractive. People all over the world thought so and there was no reason for me to feel strange about thinking so too.

Maybe I was finally coming to terms with the shame and embarrassment Sarah had heaped on me when she found me in the garage with her brother. She had made me feel like a freak of nature, a pervert, and deep down I half believed I was. Even in today’s world there was still some stigma attached to being gay or bi and I was from an earlier generation, I’d had a traditional upbringing. Not only that, I’d been married to a woman for almost twenty years, a woman who had no idea I was attracted to men in the least. In some way that I didn’t quite understand, my unlikely friendship with Bruce was helping me get beyond that.

 

I was clipping the spent flowers back and the boys were mulching the beds for the upcoming cold weather when I saw Bruce’s car return the following afternoon. I glanced up, smiled to myself when I saw him walk from the garage to the house with his overnight bag, and went back to what I was doing in anticipation of getting together after supper  
Chapter Four

Bruce didn’t stay long at my cottage that night. He outlined the theme of some of his lyrics in a general way then asked me if I could come to the main house the following evening.

“I know you work all day, I’ve watched you. I’ve seen you do everything from repair the lawn mower to paint the maintenance shed, but you do have those three kids to help you and I want to go over some of my ideas, unless you’re too tired.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I’ll be fine. I’m over there anyway, I usually eat in the kitchen with Rose.” I saw by his expression he hadn’t known that.

“Good. I have guitars you can use.” He stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He went to the door, turned to look at me again as though he wanted to say more, then he left.

I went through my work the next day making a sincere effort not to let myself get too excited by Bruce’s words. He was a member of the number one metal band in the world, there was no way my music would hold a candle to what he was used to working with. He had only heard it briefly on two occasions, after all, and besides, I’d resigned myself many years ago to the hard cold reality that my music would never amount to anything outside my own personal life.  
It was a day of catching up on odd jobs Rose had written down as needing done; repair the doors on some of the kitchen cabinets, re-attach some loose carpeting in the first floor hallway, touch up the paint on the door trim on the garage, but these tasks filled the day and before I realized it, it was after five and the guys I’d had weeding the shrubbery all day reported that they were finished for the day. I went back to my cottage to have a quick shower, grabbed my guitar, and went over to see what Rose was serving.  
She chatted with me as usual as I ate, unloading the dishwasher and scouring the sink as she talked, and it was some time before she remarked on the guitar. I briefly explained, telling her what Bruce had suggested.

“I had no idea you were a musician, Janick!” she cried, smiling widely. “Why didn’t you say anything?”  
“Because I’m not a musician,“ I laughed, “I’m a handyman, a groundskeeper, and lots of other things but I’m not a musician!”  
“Well, Mr. Bruce seems to have a different opinion,” she pointed out, “and he knows a bit about it, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure he’ll change his opinion tonight.” I told her. “Where can I find him, by the way?”

“I think he’s in the study, he has exercise equipment in there and he said he was going to work out after dinner. Let’s go and find out.” She dried her hands on her apron and walked with me through the lower floor, coming to a room I’d only glanced in when she had given me the initial tour of the house. She tapped on the door, listened for a minute, then turned the handle, peeking inside. This room was probably originally a study, it had large windows across the rear wall overlooking the gardens, but now it was filled with a number of random items. I saw all sorts of computer and home office equipment, a desk covered with papers, and a television but the rear section was devoted to home exercise equipment. Bruce didn’t answer the knock and still wasn’t aware of our presence because he was using a stair-climber and had earphones on.

Rose walked over and tapped his arm but he didn’t jump as I expected him to do, he simply pulled off the earphones and slowed the machine to a halt.

“Damn, is it that time already? Sorry, Janick. Come on in. Rose, you going home now?”  
She told him she was and after she left Bruce came over to me. He had been exercising in shorts and a sleeveless tee, his skin damp with perspiration, and he gestured for me to come all the way into the room.

“I’m going to run up for a quick shower, but,” he picked up a spiral notebook from the disarray on the desk, “have a look at some of these lyrics, it will give you an idea of what I’m shooting for here.”

I laid my guitar down and sat on the couch as he indicated and he left, saying he’d be back in ten minutes. Once he was gone I felt a little more comfortable and relaxed a bit, opening the notebook.

I was so engrossed in what I was reading I had no idea how much time had passed and wasn’t aware when Bruce came back into the room until he sat down on the other end of the couch. He didn’t say anything, letting me finish reading. When I did, I looked up at him. I was speechless. He looked a little anxious, like he was afraid I hadn’t liked what I’d read.

“Holy shit, man!” I finally found words, though they weren’t the words I intended to say.

He still looked uncertain. “What do you think?”

“I think this is incredible! These are totally different from anything I’ve ever heard you sing.”  
“Yeah, I know,” he admitted almost apologetically. “I know it’s different from the material I put on my last solo album, that wasn’t much different than I do with the band. But I can’t write like that now, not in the frame of mind I’ve been in.”

I wanted to ask a dozen questions about that but I didn’t know where to begin. The lyrics I’d just read had been deep, introspective, and at times brooding. They were also well crafted and almost beautiful. But I had to wonder about the mindset he’d been in when he wrote them. “And you called my music melancholy.” I muttered, but he heard me.

“Maybe that’s why I think your music would be perfect for these lyrics.”

“You may be right but I’m not sure I can do justice to the emotions you’re expressing here.” I admitted.

“I think you can, and I’d like to find out. So what do you say? Are you interested in working with me on this?”

I didn’t have to think about it for long. I already felt the pull, the itch to wrap some music around his words. It was a challenge and in spite of my reservations that I wasn’t good enough, I was excited about it.  
“Hell yeah!”

He broke into a grin. “All right, then. Let’s get started!”  
After an hour I forgot I was with a renowned rock star, I forgot he was my boss, I forgot that he was supposedly severely depressed and that I was one step up from a homeless vagabond. We immediately tackled the lyrics he felt were the most promising and it was like the music was coming into my mind and flowing through my fingers without conscious thought. I would read the words and somehow notes came to me, chords and riffs that I was anxious to try on an electric.  
Bruce was evidently thinking along similar lines. “wait a minute, hang on,” he said after we’d been there for almost two hours. He jumped up from the couch and went to a door off to the side of the room, going inside. A minute later he emerged with a Fender Strat and a 40 watt practice amp, which he plugged in. He handed me the guitar, attaching the lead to the amp, and sat back down. “Okay, let’s hear that last bit again.”

Oh, it felt good to hold a Strat again. It had been almost ten years since I sold the last of my stage equipment, keeping only the Gibson acoustic. I ran my hand over it appreciatively.  
“If you play, Bruce, why do you need me?”

He made a wry face. “Because I play like shit. Besides, I don’t have your knack. You look as though you aren’t even putting any effort in it yet every note you play seems to fit.”

“Not every one!” I laughed. We had already changed and discarded quite a bit.  
He laughed too, “well, enough of them do.”

I tested the tuning, adjusted it a bit, and tried a few experimental licks. After a few minutes the Strat felt so natural in my hands that I couldn’t understand how I had ever functioned without it. Bruce was writing down notes in the margins of his lyric sheets as I played and before either of us realized it, it was nearly midnight.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to get back to your place and go to bed.” Bruce set aside his notebook, sounding almost regretful that we were stopping.

“I should. Tomorrow is the day we mow the lawns.” It took three of us on three different sized tractors to be able to finish the extensive lawn in one day.  
“I can let you off the hook for that, you know. Hire someone else to help out.”

That surprise me but I didn’t have to think about kit. “No, no, that’s my job, it’s what I’m here for. If you want to keep going with this we can get together after dinner again.”

He sighed. “I can’t tomorrow night, I have to go into the city to see… someone and I won’t be back till the next day. I am anxious to get back to this, though. After supper the day after tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” I stood, reluctantly laying the Strat down I couldn’t resist running my hand along the shining lacquered body.

Bruce noticed. I was coming to realize he missed very little. “Why don’t you take the guitar and amp back to your place, maybe you can play around with some of this stuff tomorrow night.”

It crossed my mind to politely refuse but then I looked down at the Strat again. “Okay, if you don’t mind.”

I did play the Strat the next evening after I returned from dinner, I ended up playing it until late in the night. It took me back thirty years in time, back to when I was twenty years old and my mates and I were touring all over the northeast with our band playing dance halls and clubs. Back when life was full of hope and promise and the feeling that anything was possible. I knew I was experiencing some sort of mid-life crisis but it didn’t trouble me. I had my reasons for feeling wistful but I wasn’t bitter, it wasn’t my nature, and anyway it was hard to feel anything negative while holding that guitar.

I was looking forward to working with Bruce again the following night. I knew he’d returned from London, I‘d seen the blue Jag pull into the garage while I was repairing cracked mortar in the walkways. I took the Strat and amp with me when I went over for dinner but as Rose was filling my plate she was shaking her head.  
“I’m not sure Mr. Bruce will be feeling up to working on music tonight, Janick. He came home in a right foul mood, going straight to the study and slamming the door. He didn’t even show up for dinner.”

Oh?” It would be disappointing if he didn’t, and how would I know if he was expecting me or not?

“These trips to London are hard on him.” Rose shook her head, pouring herself a cup of tea and sitting down opposite me.

“He mentioned something about going to counseling sessions.” I commented.

“Yes, well those aren’t so bad, they sometimes even cheer him up. But this trip was …..,” she trailed off and I remembered Bruce talking about the confidentiality agreements his employees signed. Obviously Rose was abiding by an agreement like that and while I was curious I didn’t want to press her into saying something she felt she shouldn’t.

After dinner I bid Rose goodnight, grabbed the equipment, and made my way to the study, the room we had used the other night. I tapped on the door and this time Bruce heard the knock, he opened the door abruptly but didn’t move aside to let me in.

“Janick! Oh, shit, I forgot. Um, I don’t feel like working on the songs tonight. I’m sorry.”

He looked like shit. He was a man with a heavy beard and it looked as though he hadn’t shaved since yesterday, plus his eyes were red and tired. In fact they looked suspiciously moist, almost as if he had been crying.

“It might take your mind off your troubles to work a bit.” I suggested. I don’t know what possessed me to say it, it was simply the first thing to cross my mind.

“No.” he sounded decisive. “No, I….I’ll let you know when I want to get back at it. If I ever do…” he muttered almost as if to himself.  
I seemed to be determined to speak out of turn tonight. “You have to, Bruce! The material is too good to go to waste….”

“No!” He interrupted me, unmistakably angry now. “Get out of here, leave me alone!” and he slammed the door in my face.

I was stunned by the abruptness of it. It hurt. It shouldn’t have, I’d been subject to far worse behavior. I’d been shunned and called names and ordered to move on by the police half a dozen times over the past year or so, but this really hurt. I set the amp and guitar carefully by the wall near the door and left.  
I walked back to my cottage and had a beer. Then I had another. After four I took my acoustic and sat on my sofa, trying to lose myself in the music but it didn’t work as well tonight. I should have known better, though. I should never have allowed the dream of making music back into my life again. I should have learned my lesson last time. After a couple more beers I started to play, but this time it wasn’t one of the songs I’d written years ago. It was something I’d been thinking of for Bruce’s songs only now it was flowing freely, I was pouring my regrets and my anger and my disappointment into the music and I closed my eyes and let it take me over.

“That’s beautiful, Janick.”

I opened my eyes. I’d left my front door open in the warm evening and Bruce stood on the threshold. He’s shaved and showered, his shaggy chestnut hair was still damp, and he was looking at me with a strangely intense expression.

“It’s beautiful and it’s sad.” When I didn’t speak he stepped inside, then he stepped closer. “Janick, you’re crying!”

“No, I’m not!” I quickly brushed at my face. My cheeks were damp, though I hadn’t realized it.

He came all the way in then and sat on the couch next to me but he didn’t comment on my tears. “I came to apologize for being such an arse earlier. There’s no excuse for it, it isn’t your fault I had a shitty day.”

“It’s all right, it doesn’t matter.”

“If it doesn’t matter why were you crying.”

“Why were you crying when I knocked on your door earlier?” I countered.

He looked surprised. “What makes you think I was?”

I merely shrugged and looked away. I wasn’t willing to say anything to make him snap at me again.

After a moment I heard him sigh. “Well, you’re right. I was. It’s no reason to be rude to you, though. I’m sorry. And you didn’t have to leave the guitar and amp, I wanted you to use them.”

“No, it’s probably best I don’t keep them here.”

“Why?”

I didn’t answer, I was still looking off to the corner of the room, then to my surprise I felt him move closer to me on the couch and touch my arm.  
“Janick? Why?” His voice was quiet, even gentle.

“I have no business having things like that around, I shouldn’t even be using them. I shouldn’t be helping you with your music. It always ends badly when I think I can get back into music again.” That was more than I intended to say and I stopped talking then.

Brice was quiet for a long minute and I finally looked over at him. He was looking at me with that serious expression again. He has bright, intelligent eyes and now they were filled with compassion and empathy.  
“We all have stories, you know. And we all have things we want to hide from. Something is haunting you, Janick. Maybe it would be good to talk about it.”

“It would be good for you to talk about whatever is troubling you too.” I pointed out.

His gaze didn’t waver. “Fair enough.” He drew in a breath. “I’m going through a divorce. A particularly rough divorce. And today I signed the final papers. It’s been over for a long time, we’ve been living separately for the past year. But now it’s official.”

I had been so out of touch with the music scene that I hadn’t even known he was married.  
“I’m sorry. I know that’s a very painful time for most people.”

“You said you’re divorced too. Wasn’t it painful for you?”

I tried to find a way to explain it. “No, not in that way. The painful thing was the reason she divorced me.”

“Another man?”

I almost laughed. “No, no. well….. not on her part.”

Bruce looked a little confused and I decided to hell with it, I’d gone this far I may as well tell him the rest. I hadn’t talked to anyone about this in almost two years but then I never had anyone who would listen.

“I got married because I got drunk one night and got her pregnant. It’s as simple as that. Her brother was the drummer in the band I was playing in and he…he was also my boyfriend.”

Bruce’s eyes widened a little but he didn’t say anything. I felt like someone turned on a tap and all the words were suddenly running out of me. “She never knew about that, she thought we were just mates. He backed off when I married her. She was his sister, after all, he wasn’t willing to carry on with her husband. And she was a nice girl. She still is a nice lady but we had absolutely nothing in common apart from our son. I did right by her, though. I quit the band and got a real job and did everything that was expected of me. Her brother moved to America to start a band in L.A. and I didn’t see him for almost seventeen years. Then he came home.”

 

Bruce’s expression showed that he had an inkling of where I was going with this but he nodded for me to go on. “What can I say, Bruce? He came to visit her, he told me the band he’d been with in the States folded and he wanted to get our old one going again. I wanted to get back into music more than anything and we started auditioning guys, using my garage as a rehearsal place. But one night…..” I trailed off, reliving that night in my memory, then I forced myself to go on.  
“One night after the other guys left something happened. It was my fault, I suppose. I was trying to recapture how I felt in the old days. Playing music again made me feel like no time at all had passed so when he…..,” I sighed. “Well, Sarah caught us. She came out to the garage to see why I was taking so long and she caught me with her brother. She threw him out, then she threw me out.” I didn’t add that she called me every name in the book that night, that she cursed me and insulted me and threatened to never let me see my son again. That had been an empty threat, he was seventeen years old, old enough to make up his own mind.

 

Chapter Five

 

Bruce sat quietly listening and when I finished I sat back on the couch and closed my eyes. Talking about it had been cleansing but I felt exhausted somehow.  
“I knew we weren’t all that different.” He finally said. I raised my head and looked at him. That was not what I expected him to say at all. “I suppose I should tell you my story now. It’s the least I can do, I can only guess how hard it was for you to tell me what you just told me. I’ve been married for fourteen years and I have a son and a daughter, thirteen and nine years old. I was already well known when I met her, she knew what my life was like. Sometimes we’re on the road for eight or nine months at a time, and a few years after I got married I started venturing out into other businesses. I don’t like sitting still and she should have known that too. But a little over a year ago with no warning at all she told me she’s had enough of being on her own. She wanted a divorce. She wanted custody of the kids and half of my assets. I don’t care about the money, she can have that, but I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for joint custody of the kids. I see them whenever I go to London and it’s hard, Janick,” He drew a shaky breath, “it’s so hard! They’re old enough to know their mother and I aren’t together but not old enough to understand why. Last month my doctor told me I was under too much stress. I wasn’t been sleeping well, I wasn’t eating right, I couldn’t concentrate. He ordered me to take six months off and relax. But I can’t just sit around doing nothing, Janick! It’s driving me insane!” His voice rose in frustration at the end and I instinctively put my hand on his arm to calm him.

He seemed startled at my touch, he had been so wrapped up in what he was saying I think he forgot there was another person present. He gave me a wan smile. “So you see, we’re not all that different. And at least you know why your wife divorced you.”

“Yeah!” I sounded more bitter than I intended, “because I’m a fag!”

“No, you are not!” he said vehemently, “I hate that word! I suspect you’re bisexual like me, and there isn’t one damn thing wrong with that!”

“You’re bisexual?” That burst out of me before I could stop myself.  
“Yeah, well I’m a rock star, after all!" he said a little mockingly, making quotation marks with his fingers, "Been everywhere, done everything. Although to tell the truth I already liked blokes before I became a singer. "

"Does your wife know this?" I was trying to comprehend this.

He made a vague gesture. "I mentioned it when I met her and haven't mentioned it since. She’s never asked me about it.”

In a way I could understand that. Marrying a rock star would mean accepting lots of things one may not necessarily like.

“Anyway, Janick,” Bruce stood up so I stood too, “I felt like I owed you an apology. I do want to keep working on the music, if you’re willing. I’ve told the band’s manager I want to do another solo album, I’m allowed to according to my contract, so I want to get some material organized.” He gave a little laugh as we walked to the door, “He doesn’t realize how different it’s going to be from my usual stuff, of course, but he’ll find out. Can you come by tomorrow night?”

“Of course. And thanks for coming all the way out here to apologize, you didn’t have to do that.’

He turned to face me. “Yeah, I did. I’ve been blowing up like that at people too often recently and it isn’t fair. I like working with you, it felt like I was doing something productive for the first time since I’ve been on this so-called rest break.” He reached out and grasped my forearm briefly and left, leaving me standing there in my doorway somewhat dazed. That had been a very unexpected and unusual visit.

Still, the next evening and after helping Rose mop the kitchen floor I went on into the house to find the study door open. Bruce was once again exercising, it seemed to be an after-dinner routine of his, but he was on a treadmill this time and saw me at the door.  
“Janick!” he greeted me with a smile, gesturing for me to come in while he powered down the machine. “You wanna set up while I grab a quick shower?”  
I saw that he had a larger amp set up in the corner as well as an electronic keyboard. The notebooks with the lyrics were still lying on the coffee table where we had left them. “Go ahead, take your time.” I told him, trying not to notice that he was obviously wearing nothing beneath his exercise pants. He left the room, stripping his shirt off as he went, and I forced myself to turn away, busying myself connecting the amp to the Strat and keyboard.

The amp this time was a more powerful Marshall combo and I couldn’t resist trying it out, first closing the door because I knew it would be loud. I tinkered with it for a minute then launched into Whole Lotta Love, leaning my head back as I got into it and letting myself move to the music. I let the song flow into Godzilla and felt the joy flow through me, an almost forgotten joy that I’d once thrived on. I didn’t open my eyes until the last note died away and saw that Bruce had returned. He was standing watching me with an unreadable look on my face but when I stopped playing he immediately clapped.

“Don’t stop playing, I want to hear some more. Play one of your original compositions.” He perched on the arm of the couch.

I thought for a moment then launched into a song I ‘d written for the band many years ago, a hard driving straight -up rock song that I hadn’t played in years because it wasn’t intended for an acoustic. It came back to me so easily it was though I’d been playing it every day I let it flow through me and take me to the place that music has always transported me, a free, joyous place , and always I had to dance. I didn’t do it consciously, it was like an instinct to move with the music, I almost couldn’t control it. This was a rather long song, over eight minutes and when it was over I opened my eyes, becoming aware of my surroundings again. I found Bruce standing just a few feet away from me, a look in his eyes that I couldn’t identify.

“Janick,” he spoke after a moment, “you are fucking magic! It’s a damned shame to throw this kind of talent away! You have to use it, you have to play!”  
The intensity in his words was unexpected, he sounded almost angry that I had given up music, and there was something else in his manner, something I couldn’t put my finger on that disconcerted me but also intrigued me. He watched me with his bright amber eyes even as we went to sit on the couch, and throughout the evening I would chance to look up from my guitar or from the lyric sheets to find him looking at me with that same piercing look.

By the end of the evening I was too involved in the songwriting process to notice it anymore. Somewhat to my surprise, Bruce and I worked well together. We had very similar visions for the songs we were working on and easily bounced ideas and suggestions off one another. Occasionally he would play out a few notes on the keyboard but for the most part he was content to let me create the music as he adjusted the lyrics and tried the vocals in different keys to see which worked best. His voice was incredible even when he wasn’t trying, even when he was just tossing verses around his voice blew me away.  
By the time we quit for the evening it was close to midnight but to my surprise instead of showing me out Bruce vanished for a minute as I was tidying up the equipment cords and returned with beer.

“Sit down, Janick, want a beer?”

Never one to turn down a beer I accepted it and sat with him on the couch. I was relaxed in his presence by now and was starting to feel a kind of rapport with him, he had a sense of humor and affable way about him when he was working on music that was quite different from the edgy, irascible man of the day before. We had been discussing different artists and different styles all through the evening, gleaning influences from some and being careful not to sound too much like others, and that conversation continued as we drank our beer. When at last I headed back home after midnight I felt happy for the first time in a long time. I was working on music again and I had someone who shared my passion for it, an intelligent man who knew my deepest secret and still treated me no differently.

I got together with Bruce almost every evening for the next two weeks unless he had to spend the night in London for some reason or other. He had dozens of songs that held promise, strong lyrics that almost always centered in some way about personal reflection and self-discovery and I was finding it easier than I thought to adapt them to the hard - hitting rock music we both wanted for them. On one of these evenings Bruce brought up something I hadn't even considered.  
"You know you will get full credit and royalties if this album happens, right?"

I looked up from the guitar in surprise. "I don't care about credit, Bruce. I'm having too much fun working with you on this ."

He made a dismissive gesture. “Well, you’ll get the credit anyway. And royalties.”  
Bruce had a small tape recorder and had been recording different riffs I’d been trying out for the song we were currently working on but he put it down on the coffee table. “I feel like a beer. Want one?”  
“You know I do!” I laughed and he grinned, going to the kitchen and bring us back some.  
“I should put a mini-fridge in here,” he commented, sitting back down and handing me my beer. “I’ve been holed up here for over a month now, I might as well make it more comfortable.”  
“This place is pretty damned comfortable already .” I joked.  
He grinned but the grin faded. “I suppose it is, it’s a nice house. I resent being practically ordered to stay here and rest up, though.”  
“You’ve been keeping yourself pretty busy.” I was comfortable enough with him by now to make this type of small talk.  
He sighed, taking a swig from his bottle. “I suppose, but there are a lot of things I need to attend to and Josh can’t handle all of it.” Josh was his Personal Assistant. “I should have told both my doctor and my manager to go fuck themselves.”  
I’d learned that his manager had backed up the doctor one hundred percent in ordering Bruce to take time off to rest. He had been impossible to work with, apparently, snapping at the other band members and having vehement arguments with the bass player, the band’s founder and ostensibly the leader.  
“Granted, I haven’t spent time around you for very long but it seems to me that you are in better spirits than you were when I started working here. So maybe slowing down like this is good for you even if you don’t notice it yourself” I told him.  
He looked surprised. “Do you think so? Maybe. Working here with you has helped me a lot. I feel like I’m accomplishing something and I’m also enjoying myself. You’re good company, Janick.” He was leaning back against the back of the couch, one arm along the back and one leg tucked beneath him, and I looked up again to see him looking at me.  
I didn’t know how to respond to his comment so I just smiled but his look remained the same, the bright brown eyes locked on me. I felt strange, not exactly apprehensive, just a little ill-at-ease at times when he looked at me. After a moment he seemed to shake himself out of whatever he had been thinking so intently about and started to talk about his idea of releasing a solo album now though it had been nearly ten years since his last one.

"My manager thinks I’m crazy. He hasn’t said so, but I’ve been with him long enough to know how he thinks. He knows once the band hears about this they won’t be happy. None of them have the option in their contracts to do solo work, it was something I negotiated when I first joined because I wasn’t sure then which direction I wanted to go, whether I’d stay with the band or move on after a few years."

“Yet you’ve been with the band for almost thirty years.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess that means I must be pretty happy with it, huh?” he laughed a little. “Still, if I hadn’t done solo work now and then throughout that time I think I’d have felt stifled.”

I nodded. I knew all about feeling stifled. Over the past few days Bruce and I had gradually started talking as we worked, not just about the music but about anything that came to mind. I remembered Rose saying when I first started that Bruce was an educated man with many interests and I was finding that to be true. I’d become an avid reader after I gave up music, it gave me a way to fill the empty hours when I wasn’t working or spending time with Dustin, and I found that I was able to talk to him about a wide variety of topics from current events to history and literature. I enjoyed these talks, we sometimes got into some rather deep discussions and I was developing a growing respect for Bruce on a number of levels.

Then of course there was the fact he was remarkably handsome. I’d been conscious of it ever since the night I fixed his shower though I was able to push it to the back of my mind most of the time. Physically he was the exact opposite of me, I was thin and fair skinned with blonde hair and gray eyes and he was shorter, more muscular, and his hair and eyes were brown. I didn’t think too much about it but I found myself looking at him far more often than I knew I should be. I wasn’t doing it consciously but when I forced myself to look away and focus on what I was going I would still find myself looking back at him a few minutes later. I was annoyed at myself every time I caught myself looking but I’d always end up doing it again.

Bruce didn’t mention it often but I knew he was still fighting a legal for joint custody of his kids and I could tell he was growing very frustrated by it. Sometimes when he’d spent the day or had to stay overnight in London he came home in a black mood. He didn’t say much and would beg off from working on the music so on those nights I left him alone, going straight back to my cottage after supper and spending the evening reading, playing guitar, or talking to my son on the phone.  
We had been working on the music for almost three weeks when he went to London for two nights, the first time he stayed away more than one night since I’d been there. Rose had called me to the main house because she was having problems with the state-of-the-art washing machine. It was a rather complicated computerized appliance and I didn’t fully understand it myself so we were figuring it out together in the laundry room off the kitchen when we heard the front door slam. It was unusual for the sound to carry through the house so we knew the door had to have been slammed violently hard and we exchanged a look.

“Mr. Bruce is home,” Rose sighed, “and it sounds like he’s in one of his moods. Apparently things didn’t go well in the city.”  
“He doesn’t talk to me about that sort of thing so I don’t know anything about his trips to the city, “ I told her, “ but I’ll go along with your guess that it didn’t go well.”  
We listened for a moment as the sound of someone stomping up the stairs and slamming an upstairs door reached us and Rose shook her head.

“He doesn’t tell me about his business in town either.” She admitted, “but I think he had a number of things scheduled this trip and that’s why he had to stay the extra night. I’m afraid some of it concerns his legal battle over his children and that’s heartbreaking.”  
“You must have known his wife and kids before the divorce,” I ventured.

She nodded. “The kids, yes. They were very little when he bought the house and they would come out for weekends whenever he wasn’t working, which wasn’t often I’m afraid. But the wife…well, I’ve met her, of course, but she didn’t come here as often. She’s a beautiful lady, very glamourous, but I think it’s too quiet here for her, she likes the excitement of the city.”

I nodded, both in understanding of what she said but also in acknowledgement of what she’d left unsaid, because there was clear disapproval in her tone when talking about Bruce’s ex-wife. Having worked for him for fourteen years Rose was obviously fond of Bruce and I suspected anything that distressed him would meet with her disapproval.

Rose was unusually quiet as she served my dinner, it was almost as if we picked up on Bruce’s mood and I retreated back to my cottage as soon as she left for home. On the nights I wasn’t able to work with Bruce on music I sometimes worked on it on my own, things would occur to me throughout the day and I would try them out that evening, but this particular evening I wanted to escape from everything for a while and I settled in with a book and a beer. I was deep in a rather complicated outline of Norse mythology when I heard a tap at my door.  
At first I thought I imagined it. It was a rainy, windy night and I assumed it was the wind but then I heard it again so I got up to investigate.

I opened the door to find Bruce on my doorstep with beads of moisture in his hair and an uncertain, hesitant look on his face.  
“Bruce! I didn’t expect to see you tonight, we don’t usually work when you’ve just returned from London. Come in!” I stepped back and held the door wide.

He came in. “I know, I know we don’t and I’m not here to work. I just didn’t want to sit around the house by myself tonight.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” I was, I realized. I had been missing him over the past few days. “Sit down. Want a beer?”

“I could use one, thanks.” He sat on one end of the sofa and I went to the fridge, getting us two cold Coronas and handing him one.  
”I heard you come home earlier,” I told him, sitting down. “I got the distinct feeling something didn’t go well in London.”

He let a sort of snort of laughter escape him. “You could say that. It’s funny though, because six months ago I would have been elated if this happened.”

“You want to talk about it?” I asked. My voice sounded soft to my own ears, the compassion I was feeling for him for whatever was troubling him coming through.  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, why not? Maybe it will help me get my thoughts straight.” He paused then for a healthy sip of beer and seemed to be searching for words to go on but I didn’t press him. Finally he looked up at me with that intense look he often got. “I had the kids for the night last night at my London house. This afternoon when I brought them home to their mother’s she said she wanted to talk to me. I was hoping she’d finally reached some sort of compromise on the joint custody issue. I sure as hell didn’t expect anything like what she sprung on me!”  
He took another drink, shaking his head as if in bewilderment, then her turned to face me. “She said she wants to get back together with me, Janick!”  
I suddenly felt like all the air had been punched out of my lungs, a kind of stunned, almost numb feeling washed over me. I couldn’t take the time to analyze why his words had hit me so hard so I just nodded.

He went on, “She gave me this big long explanation about how she was confused and she’s sorry and all and it dawned on me right then and there that I didn’t want to get back together with her! The idea holds no appeal for me at all! In fact, the very thought pissed me off. First she comes out of the blue and says she wants a divorce , now she changes her mind!”

I finally found my voice, though my mind was still reeling. “What did you do?”

He gave a rueful laugh then. “I lost my temper. I’m known for flying off the handle but this time I think I was entirely justified.” He shook his head again, “I probably shouldn’t have done it, it will only make the custody battle worse, but I couldn’t help it. How dare she! She acted like she was doing me a favor, like it never occurred to her I’d refuse. But Janick, I just don’t feel that way about her anymore. I don’t feel much of anything for her beyond her being the mother of my children. Maybe I never did, I don’t know. I’m as confused as hell right now.”

“I can understand that.” I told him. I tried to imagine how I would have reacted if Sarah wanted to reconcile with me but I couldn’t even imagine it. I would never do it, I knew that beyond a doubt. “Maybe…maybe you should give yourself some time to cool down, maybe you’ll feel differently if you aren’t so angry.” I suggested. It had been hard for me to get those words out.

He shook his head decisively. “No, no….I’m not going to change my mind about it. I’m just having trouble understanding why she’s jerking me around like this. Did your wife ever try to manipulate you like that, Janick?”

I felt I owed him an honest answer, after all he had been honest with me. “No. She was never interested enough in what I did to try to manipulate me into doing anything differently.”  
Bruce looked at me and shook his head. “That’s just as hard to understand as the mind games Penny is trying to pull. How could any woman take someone like you for granted that way? You’re intelligent, you’re fun to be with, God knows you’re good looking…I don’t understand it. I just don’t understand women, I guess.” He drained his beer and I took the opportunity to get up and get him another one, aware that he’d just referred to me as good looking. To the best of my knowledge, no one had ever said that about me before.

We sat up late that night in my cottage talking, and I sensed a shift in the dynamic between us. We were talking more like mates now than as employer and employee or as two collaborators writing music. We didn’t talk any more about our marriages, we didn’t talk about anything in specific, but I could tell Bruce felt better for having talked to me and I was glad he had come. It would have been very unhealthy for him to sit alone in that big house going over and over his ex-wife’s behavior, driving himself crazy about it.  
It was close to midnight when he stood and, almost reluctantly it seemed, said he should be getting back to the house. I walked with him to the door.  
“Are you going to be all right alone tonight, Bruce?” I was a little concerned about him, afraid he would fall into a depression once he was alone.

He smiled, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But…,” he looked at me, his amber eyes earnest, “thanks for letting me come over and spill my guts, you know? I feel better now that I’ve vented.”

I felt a funny warmth inside because I knew he meant it, he did feel better. “I’m here anytime, Bruce. So are we working on the music tomorrow after dinner?”

“Absolutely! Goodnight Janick.” He looked at me for a long moment, then turned and walked out into the mist.

 

Chapter Six  
It was late autumn now and there had been frost on the ground some mornings so my work intensified in the gardens to prepare everything for winter. Rather than having the boys come three times a week to help I now needed them five days a week and we put in long days, often until six in the evening. Rose generally went home at five so she had taken to leaving my dinner for me in the kitchen and as soon as I finished I joined Bruce, usually in the study, to continue working on his songs.

About a week after his unexpected visit to my place Bruce had another overnight trip to London and when he mentioned it to me the day before I was immediately apprehensive, remembering how his last trip had upset him. He never spoke to me about these trips before so I was a little surprised when he addressed the subject.  
“Don’t look so worried, Janick. This time I’m only going to some meetings at the record company and taking the kids overnight. I won’t be seeing Penny at all, I’m picking them up straight from school.”  
I laughed a little. “I wasn’t aware I looked worried.”

He grinned. “You did. You have very expressive eyes, you know. It’s easy to read your mood. Everyone’s eyes should be as unguarded and honest as yours.”  
We were sitting on the sofa, notebooks and lyric sheets spread out between us, but when I looked up I caught him looking at me with the expression I had been noticing more and more often.  
“I wish I could read your thoughts as easily as you seem to be able to read mine,” I said it jokingly but I was half serious. To my surprise he didn’t smile back and, if anything, the look only deepened.  
“No, you don’t.” he said quietly. There was something in his tone I couldn’t identify but I found my eyes locked to his for a long minute, unable to look away. I didn’t respond to his comment, something told me he wouldn’t explain what he meant even if I asked and a part of me wondered if I even wanted to know. After a short awkward silence he stood abruptly and got us another beer.  
“Actually,” he said when he returned to the room, “I’m meeting with my manager some others from the record company tomorrow too, trying to iron out details for this album. They’re reluctant to let me do it. I’ve sent them a sample of what we’ve been working on here and they think it’s too far removed from what the fans are used to hearing from me.”  
It was a little startling to hear that he’d sent record executives in London some of what we were doing, it felt like as close as I’d ever gotten to being a professional songwriter but I wasn’t too daunted by the idea. I felt what we'd done was strong and after all, this was why we were writing it. In another of the uncanny moments where he seemed to read my mind, Bruce smiled.

“They all liked the music, though. They asked who’d written it because they know that isn’t my strong suit and I told them I’m collaborating with a friend who used to have a band.”

I merely nodded, but when he said the word ‘friend’ I realized that that is exactly what we’d become, we were friends. Our nightly sessions felt a lot like jamming with my mates used to feel, there was an easy feeling of camaraderie between us that had grown since the night he visited me and it seemed we had a lot of common interests even outside of music, as strange as I once would have found that. When he had told me he was just a common man from a humble background I’d brushed it off as a platitude but it was becoming evident that it was true, in many ways we were very much alike.

I always missed seeing Bruce when he was away, not just working with him but just spending time with him talking and hanging out. As much time as I’d spent on my own in my life I should have been accustomed to it but for some reason it felt different now when Bruce was away. I hadn’t had many friends while I was married and Sarah and I never talked unless we had to but now I found myself thinking ‘oh, I’ll have to tell Bruce that’ or ‘I wonder how Bruce feels about this’ as I went about my day. Spending the evening alone in my little cottage that night I tried to distract myself by reading or by working out a piece of music I wasn’t entirely happy with but my thoughts kept drifting back to Bruce. I missed him when he wasn’t around, pure and simple. I’d gotten used to him by now and I was no longer bothered by finding him attractive. He was attractive. People all over the world thought so and there was no reason for me to feel strange about thinking so too.

Maybe I was finally coming to terms with the shame and embarrassment Sarah had heaped on me when she found me in the garage with her brother. She had made me feel like a freak of nature, a pervert, and deep down I half believed I was. Even in today’s world there was still some stigma attached to being gay or bi and I was from an earlier generation, I’d had a traditional upbringing. Not only that, I’d been married to a woman for almost twenty years, a woman who had no idea I was attracted to men in the least. In some way that I didn’t quite understand, my unlikely friendship with Bruce was helping me get beyond that.

I was clipping the spent flowers back and the boys were mulching the beds for the upcoming cold weather when I saw Bruce’s car return the following afternoon. I glanced up, smiled to myself when I saw him walk from the garage to the house with his overnight bag, and went back to what I was doing in anticipation of getting together after supper.  
Rose was just leaving for the day when I went over to the main house after a quick shower.  
"Oh, Janick, I'm glad you're here! Mr., Bruce wanted me to tell you to come to the study straight away. Your dinner will keep, I've got it in the warmer.”  
I was a little surprised. Generally Bruce ate alone then worked out for a half hour before we started work but I thanked her and made my way through the house. The study door was open and I hesitated, seeing Bruce inside walking back and forth talking on his cell phone. He looked up and grinned when he saw me and motioned for me to come in, gesturing at the couch so I sat down just as he wrapped up the call.

“Well, I have some news! “ he threw himself down on the couch next to me with a flourish, grinning.  
“It must be good news judging from that goofy grin on your face.” I joked.  
“Oh it is, it is. The album is on! They’re booking the studio in London for just after Christmas!”

“Fantastic! Congratulations, Bruce!” Without thinking I pulled him to me for a hug. After the briefest hesitation he returned it, and when I went to pull away he kept his hands on my shoulders.

“That isn’t all, Jan. You’re going to be my guitarist.”

I was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he went on in the exaggerated way that people have when driving home an obvious point, “I insisted on choosing my own musicians and not using studio musicians. And I chose you.”

I was stunned, sitting back against the back of the couch, “I’m not good enough for that….”  
He cut in. “I knew you were going to say that and I say bullshit! You’re as good a guitarist as I’ve ever heard and no one knows this material better; you wrote it! You’ll do it, won’t you?” he sounded a bit hesitant and I had to laugh.

“Of course I’ll do it, if you want me.”

“Oh, I want you.” Bruce said, only this time he said it in a softer, quieter voice that made my stomach take an unexpected flip. His eyes were even brighter than usual, the brown depths shining, and I found I couldn’t look away. It flashed through my mind in a nanosecond that he was going to kiss me, that I desperately wanted him to kiss me, and I could feel my heart hammering in my ribs.

Then he leaned in just slightly, pressing his lips to mine. I responded without conscious violation, the move was sudden and unexpected but a part of my brain was thinking that I knew this was going to happen all along, that the attraction had been growing from the beginning and that had reached the point where it was impossible to hold it back any longer.  
The initial kiss was soft, almost gentle, then Bruce drew back a few inches and put his hands on my face, looking deeply at me. “Is this okay?” he said. It was almost a whisper.  
I seemed to have lost my ability to speak so I nodded, my eyes never leaving his. The next second he was kissing me again but it was no longer as soft, we were now crushing our mouths together in a sudden, all-consuming hunger that had escalated faster than anything I had ever experienced, faster than I would have ever believed was possible between two people. I parted my lips and his tongue immediately invaded my mouth, seeking out my own and sliding across and around it. He was exactly as I would have expected, he was impassioned and forceful and overwhelming and it turned me on so fast I was left dizzy and I got hard quicker than I would have thought humanly possible. I put my hands on his shoulders pulling him closer and he responded by putting both arms around me, the kisses becoming hot and hungry and desperate.

Bruce pushed me back against the back of the couch and I pulled him even more tightly against me. His mouth had moved from my lips to my chin, my jaw, on down my neck and around my ear, nipping and kissing and licking and setting me on fire. My own hands were on his back and I wanted to feel his bare skin, I dipped my fingers under the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his muscular back hot against my palms. He broke away for just a second to pull off his shirt, tossing it carelessly on the floor before pulling my shirt up and over my head, throwing it aside too.  
He had far more body hair than me, more than the only other man I’d ever been with, and it was unexpectedly smooth and soft. I couldn’t stop my hands from moving across his skin as he kissed his way down past my collarbone, sucking softly against my chest. I’ve always been self-conscious about my body, I thought I was too pale and skinny and I scarcely had any body hair at all but Bruce was becoming increasingly turned on. When his mouth found my nipple I cried out in spite of myself, it sent an electric current straight through me and without intending to I moved my hips against him in response.

Neither is us had said a word but now Bruce spoke, his voice hushed and breathless as he continued to rain kisses on me. “You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks now, Janick. I would watch you through the window as you were working, watching your perfect ass and those long legs, watching how your hair would escape from under your hat and catch the sunlight….God, Janick, I want you so bad!”

He sucked a particularly hard hickey into the white skin of my shoulder that I knew would leave a mark but I didn’t care, I heard little sounds of want escaping me that I hadn’t known I was capable of making and I slid my hands down over his denim-clad butt, pulling his hips closer.  
He groaned and I felt his fingers at the clasp of my jeans, but then he looked up into my face. “If you want to stop, tell me now. Tell me now or nothing on earth will get me to stop!”

“Don’t….don’t stop.” I was breathless, “For God’s sake, don’t stop, Bruce!” I made a feeble attempt at the fastenings of his jeans but I couldn’t unfasten them, he’d maneuvered me into lying on my back now and all I could reach was his head and shoulders. I felt the button on my pants open then I felt him lowering the zipper. I almost never wore underwear and thankfully I wasn’t wearing any now. I felt Bruce press kisses into my skin as more and more was revealed and one of his hands lying on my crotch. He was applying no pressure but he didn’t need to, it felt as though his hand was burning through the denim and I could feel myself twitch in my eagerness.  
He felt it too, I could tell. He cupped his hand, applying more pressure as he continued to suck hot, wet kisses against my stomach. My pants were open now and I felt his fingers combing through my sparse pubic hair, then he began to inch the tight denim down over my hips. I raised my butt to make it easier and within a few seconds I felt myself be free of the confines of the jeans, I felt the cool air of the room on my erection for just a moment before I was engulfed by the moist velvety heat of his mouth.

My immediate thought was that I was going to come embarrassingly fast, it had been a very, very long time since I’d had any sex at all aside from the occasional wank in the shower and this was already feeling far better than any sex I’d ever had in my life.  
“Slow,” I gasped, “slow down, Bruce, please! Make it last! I don’t want this to be over yet!”  
“Oh, it won’t be, not by a long shot!” he removed his mouth from me long enough to assure me, returning to what he’d been doing with even more enthusiasm until I felt myself spiraling out of control, higher and higher until I let out a strangled cry and climaxed, filling his mouth, and even then he didn’t stop. The orgasm was so sudden and so powerful I was on the brink of passing out and I’d unconsciously tangled my fingers in his hair.

I think I lay there for several seconds before I became aware of my surroundings again. Bruce was still pressing soft kisses against me, working his way back up my stomach and chest until he got close enough for me to seize him and kiss him as deeply as I knew how, tasting myself on him and not giving a damn. I felt him hot against my stomach, rock hard and needy, and I quickly slid down beneath him until I was directly under his balls, reaching out with my tongue and making him gasp as I made contact. I took each one in my mouth as he settled into a more comfortable position straddling my shoulders. I hadn’t done this in a very long time, things hadn’t gotten this far in my garage on that fateful night, but I clearly remembered how and as I got into it I remembered how much I liked doing this. This was different from my half-forgotten memories, though. This was Bruce and I wanted to taste every bit of him. I was perhaps more enthusiastic than I was skilled but I opened my eyes and looked up at him, seeing such an expression of lust and desire on his face and in his eyes that I knew I must be doing something right. I heard him murmur my name and I felt the muscles in his thighs flex, then he let out a long, low groan and flooded my mouth with warm thick liquid that I drank down greedily, licking and cleaning him even as he sat back on his heels, exhausted.

After a moment he seemed to regain his senses and he fell against the back of the couch, reaching out and pulling me with him, his arm tight around me. I was so sated, so fulfilled and content that I nestled into his side and I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head.

“Janick?” I raised my head to look at him and he went on. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah,” I sort of sighed, “I’m more than okay with it.” I felt his hand sliding up and down my arm, I don’t think he realized he was doing it. After a minute or two he spoke again, his voice so earnest I was compelled to look up into his eyes.  
“I know what you probably think. That I’m just fucking around with you, that I’m a rock star so naturally I sleep around, that I’m only interested in a bit of fun. I need you to know that none of that is true! My days of partying and sleeping around are long past and I think one of the reasons I was so sure I didn’t want to get back with Penny was because of how attracted I was feeling to you. I….., I don’t know why you did this but I did it because I like you, Janick. I like you a lot.”  
I kept my gaze level and spoke without having to think about it. “I like you a lot too, and I was attracted to you from the start. I still have a few….hang-ups, I guess you could say, about my feelings for men because…well because of Sarah. She didn’t take it well at all when she found out.”

“You mean she made you feel badly about yourself, right? She was wrong, Jan! Very wrong! We are attracted to who we are attracted to, it’s right and natural and it has to be enjoyed. Enjoyed the way we enjoyed ourselves here tonight,” he gestured to indicate that we were both still sitting there stark naked, “and I want to keep enjoying it with you, if you’re willing.”  
I leaned up and placed a light kiss on his lips. “I’m very willing!” I was still reeling from everything that had just happened, my brain hadn’t processed it all yet but for the moment I was happier than I could remember ever being in my life. I felt cared for, I felt valid and important and alive in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

After a few more minutes of sitting there wrapped up in one another’s arms we reluctantly pulled our clothes back on and oddly enough it wasn’t awkward, it felt natural being with him after what had taken place between us just as it had felt natural working with him or talking with him. There was a new intimacy in our conversation, not in our words as much as in our tone and body language, but other than that we had the same easy flow of thoughts and ideas that had marked all of our time together recently. He asked me if I’d had time to eat before coming to the study and when I told him I hadn’t we went together to the kitchen where he sat and talked with me as I ate.  
After we’d returned to the study though I was conscious of Bruce looking at me as I brought out the notes for the song we were currently working on. I had no idea how I was going to focus on anything, I felt a little out-of-touch like I was floating just off the floor, and when I sat on the couch I was very aware of Bruce’s intense gaze.

“What?” I smiled. The look on his face was a warm intimate and it left me feeling kind of shaken up, though in a good way.  
“I was wondering how I’m going to get any work done now,” he said quietly. “All I can think about is kissing you again.”

“Well maybe,” I teased, “you should kiss me and get it out of your system, then!’

He laughed, “I don’t want to get you out of my system, Jan.” he slid close to me on the couch but instead of immediately kissing me he reached up and touched my hair, letting his fingers comb through it, then he touched my face. “You are beautiful, you know. You’re perfect.”

I laughed, embarrassed. “No, I’m hardly either one of those things!”

“All right, would like it better if I told you how hot you are, how much you turn me on, how much I want to fuck you?” he smiled  
My heart jumped a bit at that. Did he mean that literally or was it just a figure of speech?  
His next words answered that question. “Have you done that with a man before?”

I nodded a little sheepishly. “A long time ago.”

“Your former brother-in-law?” The question was gentle.  
I just nodded. I’d been trying so hard for so many years to forget all about that, about anything that had taken place between Graeme and me, but as soon as it was mentioned it was all brought back vividly in my mind. Two kids just out of school trying to get a band going, sleeping in a battered old van between gigs. We had been awkward and inexperienced but we had tried everything at least a few times, including that. And I could not forget that I had liked it.  
Bruce’s fingers were still stroking through my hair. “I think that we would be able to…to focus on work if you’ll agree to stay with me tonight.”  
I laughed a little nervously. “How is that going to help?”  
“Because if I know I can have you all night I won’t be sitting here driving myself crazy wanting to touch you right now. But only stay ,” he added quickly. “if you want to.”  
I took his hand from my hair and pressed a kiss to it. “I do want to.”

Chapter Seven

We made a valiant attempt at working on the music but found that we were going over the same parts again and again and not achieving anything. Finally Bruce tossed his notebook across the keyboard he was sitting behind and sighed.  
“It’s no good, I can’t concentrate with you standing there just a few feet away. I’ve got to have you, and I’ve got to have you now!”  
He stood and I didn’t even have time to take off the guitar before he was on me, his mouth devouring my own, the guitar still between us and making tortured sounds from the friction. I met his kisses eagerly, a little nervous but extremely excited at the prospect of what the rest of the night might hold. My sex drive was re-awakening with force that was literally taking my breath away, I was hard for him within seconds, the vibrations from the guitar against my groin only adding to the stimulus.  
He drew back only long enough to let me slip the strap over my head them he was back, his hands on my arse grinding me to him.  
“Upstairs,” he whispered, “now!”  
His room was much as I remembered it, masculine and slightly untidy, but I had little time to notice anything else because as soon as we were inside he pushed me against the wall and ran his hands up my chest and down my sides as his mouth captured mine again, his tongue insistent as it penetrated my mouth, exploring me until I captured it with my own, wrestling and tasting as my excitement mounted. I already felt like I was seconds from an orgasm, my nerves were so sharpened now that when his hand slid over my crotch I cried out loud, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. He took advantage of that to move his lips to my throat, biting and sucking as his hand slowly rubbed me.

“Ahh, Bruce, please…” I gasped, hardly knowing what I was saying. I was pressing my groin against his and running my fingers through his chest hair beneath his shirt. When I encountered a nipple I gave it a sharp tweak and he gasped, pulling me away from the wall and toward the bed.  
“I’m loving reawakening you,” he murmured against my shoulder, grazing my skin with his teeth. “You’re like a million volts of sexual energy and I want them all!”  
We tumbled onto the bed and I immediately found the fastenings to his jeans, opening them as fast as I possibly could and diving my hand inside. He was so hard it had to hurt, already seeping moisture in his excitement but I knew I was too, I could feel it. I tore his shirt off, he scarcely took his mouth from my neck to allow me to pull it over his head, and both of his hands were under my shirt as he leaned over me, his palms rubbing across my nipples.

“I want you naked!” he groaned. “I want to see all of you, I want to kiss and lick and bite all of you!”

His words were inflaming me and I scrambled out of my clothes with inhuman speed, not bothering to untie my shoes but just kicking them off with my jeans. Bruce was moving down my body with wet, open kisses and I could feel his tongue on my skin. I was so oversensitive that I could feel everything and I arched my hips up when he reached my belly, trying to hurry him to where I desperately needed attention.

Instead he slowed down, deliberately teasing me, nuzzling my pubic hair and nipping it with his teeth. I was thrashing about on the bed unable to restrain myself, my hands on his head and shoulders and I was muttering a long string of gibberish.  
“Come on, Bruce, don’t tease me, don’t make me wait! Please, I’ve needed this for so long, I need you!!”  
He returned to kissing me, kissing his way down my hips and to my thighs, his hand smoothing over my belly in a futile attempt to keep me still. He reached my balls and took one into the warmth of his mouth, rolling the other in the palm of his hand, and I almost came at the sensation. I let out a low whine I didn’t recognize as coming from my own mouth and he finally took mercy on my, I felt the tip of his tongue run up my shaft.

““I haven’t done this with a man since before I was married and even then it wasn’t often, and if you want me to stop, I will. I want to fuck you, Janick.´ he whispered, his breath hot against me.  
I looked down, meeting his eyes. He looked a little uncertain but I didn’t hesitate.

“Yes, Bruce, yes, fuck me, I want you, fuck me now!” I was shameless but I didn’t care, this was so good I was half afraid it was a dream and I wanted to enjoy every bit of it before I woke up. He moved up me, kissing as he went, until he was leaning over me and I reached up, pulling his head down and kissing him furiously,. I reached my hands behind him and clasped his buttocks, pulling him tight against me until I felt him hard against me, then I spread my legs, hooking my ankles behind his knees.  
He paused for a few seconds and reached blindly into his nightstand drawer, rummaging through assorted items until he drew out a small tube. This was suddenly getting very real and I felt a brief instant of nerves.  
Bruce seemed to sense this and he kissed me again, only more gently this time. “It will be okay. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“I know…I know you won’t.” I was gasping almost incoherently now, I felt him against me and I wanted him inside me so badly with a desperate need that I could hardly comprehend. I felt his fingers, cool and slippery with the gel, and I held still with an effort as he prepared me. I knew it might hurt, after so many years it would be like my first time again, but I still wanted Bruce more than I’d ever wanted anyone before in my life.

At last I felt him slip inside me and there was only a momentary sting. His movements started out slow but I was impatient, I met his thrusts and urged him on, my hands clutching his back trying to pull him even closer. He was still covering my face and neck with kisses and I returned them, capturing his mouth and kissing him deeply. I knew I wasn’t going to last long and when he reached between us to close his hand around me I felt sensations blur and heighten out of control. I tightened my legs around his and threw my head back, my body seized in convulsions as I experienced the most powerful orgasm of my life.  
“Oh, God, Janick!” Bruce groaned as he reached his peak as well, his hands beneath my back now as his movements staggered and he shuddered, filling me. He held me tight to him for what felt like a full minute before he fell to the side, leaving my body as he did but quickly gathering me in his arms, holding me so tightly I could still feel the aftershocks coursing through him.  
We lay there quietly, our breathing still rapid, trying to regain some sort of composure. I felt the stickiness of my orgasm on both of our stomachs but couldn’t muster the energy to look for something to use to clean up. After a minute I felt Bruce move and I iopened my eyes to find him looking at me.  
“That was beyond incredible.” He said softly, brushing a soft kiss against the corner of my mouth. “Are you okay?”  
I laughed a little, still breathless. “I’m more okay than I think I’ve ever been!”  
“I’ve laid here fantasizing about this,” Bruce confessed softly, his voice so quiet I couldn’t have heard him if he weren’t mere inches from my ear. “I would watch you working in the yard and sometimes I had to jerk off, you turned me on so much. If I’d known how incredible you really are I think I’d have gone out there and dragged you behind some bushes to have my way with you!”  
I laughed again but I could tell he wasn’t just bullshitting, he meant what he was saying.  
“I’d forgotten how good this could be.” I admitted. “I tried to forget because I didn’t think I could ever have this again. It was better than I can remember it ever being before.”  
I was nestled into the crook of his shoulder and I felt him place a kiss to the top of my head, his hand stroking through my hair. We lay there for quite some time talking quietly about nothing in particular, our words soft and intimate, until we drifted off to sleep.

I woke up a bit disoriented. I was in the habit of waking around 6:00 AM and the light was right for that time of day, but the room wasn't my own and there was a solid warmth close to my side. In a flash I remembered the night before and quickly turned my head to look at Bruce. He lay close to my side, one arm loosely lying across the blankets covering my chest, sleeping soundly. The more I remembered of the previous night the more uneasy I felt. For one thing, i'd behaved like a complete tart. One time during the night I'd awakened as Bruce slipped from the bed to use the bathroom and when he returned i virtually attacked him. Not that he seemed to mind, especially when it ended by my riding him into oblivion ike a wild cowboy, but I'd never behaved that way before, not even in my youth. Even now looking at him as he slept I felt a strong urge to slip beneath the covers and wake him up with a surprise blowjob, but I restrained myself. It wasn't easy because as soon as the thought crossed my mind my body responded.  
I felt like I had to get away from there, I couldn't think straight with his naked body pressed to my own like it was. I carefully slipped out of the bed and dressed, but before I left the room I looked down at Bruce again. He was handsome and virile and I'd allowed myself to get swept away, but what could possibly become of my getting involved with him? I barely knew him. He was a rock star, no doubt a millionaire several times over, an entrepreneur business owner, and most importantly he was newly divorced. I could only be a rebound for him, and something like that couldn't last long. I liked him, I liked him a lot, and if I let this continue I knew I was in danger of liking him too much. He stirred in his sleep, mumbling something I couldn't make out, and I felt a strange suspicion that I already liked him too much for my own good.  
Back at my cottage I had a long, hot shower before I went back out and set about my daily tasks. I had a schedule for regular chores each day of the week as well as a list of things that needed to be take care of individually and with colder weather approaching I set the boys to work mulching the flower beds when they arrived while I took care of some routine maintenance sround the outbuildings. Around mid-morning I saw Bruce's assistant Josh's car arrive but he only stayed an hour or so. Noty long after I saw his car leave i was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the maintenance garage putting new string on one of the weed trimmers when a shadow fell across me. I looked up but I already knew it was Bruce from the way my pulse increased. to my surp[rise he sat down next to me.

"I was hoping you would still be there when I woke up this morning." he said quietly.  
"I had to go to work."  
"Hey, I'm your boss, I would have cut you some slack!"

I knew he was kidding around but it didn't help my worries that he referred to himself as my boss. Of course, he was my boss but it was just another reminder why I shouldn't be getting involved with him. I didn’t respond to what he said, I just looked back down at what I was doing.  
“Janick?”  
I had to look at him then and I wished I hadn’t. There was a look of concern on his face, almost a fearful look.  
“Will you be coming by to work on the songs later?”  
I hesitated, but I couldn’t think of any reason not to. I wanted to work on the music, I loved doing it and it didn’t have to lead to anything more. Surely I would be able to get away before anything else happened.  
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”  
Before I realized it was happening Bruce leaned over and kissed me and, damn it, I responded. I couldn’t seem to stop myself, my body seemed to have a mind of its own around him. The kiss was soft but lingering and he drew away with a sexy sigh.  
“See you later, then.” He stood and left, leaving me sitting there with my heart pounding and my lips tingling.  
After dinner I went through the main house to the study with my stomach quivering. I was nervous and I knew it was absurd. I was a grown man in my fifties and if I felt sleeping with Bruce was a bad decision I wouldn’t do it, that’s all.  
“Oh hey, good, you’re here!” Bruce greeted me with a smile and stopped the treadmill he was using. “I have to grab a shower,” he walked over to me, “how about coming up and joining me?”  
I swallowed, trying to get the vision of him naked and wet in the shower out of my head. “I…I think I should set up and run through those riffs for that song about your home town, I have some ideas and I want to try them out before I forget them.”

“Oh,” Bruce’s smile faded, “all right, I’ll be down in a few minutes, then.” He left the room and I sighed. He sounded disappointed and I was still fighting back the mental image of him naked in the shower. I was sitting on the couch aimlessly strumming the Strat when he returned to the room.  
"Hey, how did it go?"  
I looked up, startled out of my thoughts "Huh?"  
"You said you were working on something." he sat down next to me, too close for comfort, looking at me expectantly.  
"Oh. I…. I'm still working it out."  
Bruce gave me a curious look “Janick, is anything wrong?”  
“No, I’m fine. Here, listen to this.” I played the riff I’d been working out in my head and we got down to work then. As long as we were engrossed in the songwriting process I could shove aside my insane attraction to Bruce, my mind was completely on the music. We got quite a bit done, finishing up the basic music for the song he’d written about the mining town he’d been born in. I was relaxed now, pleased with what we’d done and not on my guard so when Bruce sat down beside me again and put his arms around me it took me by surprise.  
“I think we should celebrate finishing that one up.” He smiled, leaning in and kissing me. I intended to pull away but the moment his mouth closed over mine I felt like every bone in my body was melting, or at least every bone except one. It felt completely out of my control when I returned the kiss, like another force had taken me over, causing me to pull Bruce to me and deepen the kiss, causing me to slip my tongue between his lips and slide my hands beneath the back of his shirt. I wasn’t thinking about how unwise this was or how stupid it would be to continue this, I could only think about how warm his hands were on my back and how good it felt when he pulled me closer, so close I could feel how aroused he already was.  
He drew apart from me slightly. “Stay with me tonight, Janick.” The words were soft and he put his hand up to stroke my hair, letting his fingers trail down my face. Refusing never entered my mind.

Chapter Seven

It was an incredible, unbelievable night. The sheer overwhelming all-consuming passion that flared up between Bruce and I was mind-boggling. Granted, I hadn’t had a great many sex partners in my life. A few girls in school, then Graeme, but not only had I never experienced anything like this, I hadn’t really believed it was possible. I’d always assumed it was all made-up for books and movies but no book or movie had ever come close to depicting this kind of intensity. I was discovering something about myself that I’d never even suspected – I had a high sex drive. Even in my younger days fooling around with Graeme I had never felt so carried away and a small part of my mind was astonished that two men of our age could have this kind of stamina. We experienced two orgasms apiece before we fell asleep from sheer exhaustion then awakened an hour or two later to do it all over again.

I awoke first again in the morning and my first thought was of how fantastic I felt. I was a bit sore in a few places but I was filled with a warm sense of well-being and contentment. Still half asleep, I snuggled closer in to Bruce’s side and in his sleep I felt his arm tighten around me. I drifted off to sleep again with blurred memories of the night before floating through my mind, memories of deep, hungry kisses, the feeling of Bruce’s mouth on me, the feeling of him filling me, and the feeling of him softly stroking my hair as I finally fell asleep.  
It was that last memory that made me awaken again with a start. He’d kissed me softly on my forehead then my lips, his fingers brushing my tangled long blonde hair back from my face, and I clearly remembered the tender look in his eyes. That look was emblazoned in my mind now and I felt a flutter of near panic in my chest when I remembered how it had made me feel. I’d felt safe and comfortable and happy. In the gray light of morning I realized how ridiculous that was. We had incredible sex together but I could not afford to believe it was anything more than that.  
I turned to look at Bruce. He lay with the sheet barely up to his waist, his head against my shoulder, his face relaxed and a slight smile on his lips. And well he should smile, after the night we had! But lying there looking at him as he slept, a cold hard fact became obvious to me. I was falling in love with him. And that was something I couldn’t allow myself to do.  
I was thankful that he was a sound sleeper, I was able to dress and slip out of there without him stirring and I walked back to my cottage lost in thought. How had I let myself get involved in this situation? Bruce is a rock star, for God’s sake! Once again, my love of music and my desire to make music had been my downfall. I should have known better than to think anything could come of it. Bruce and his talk of songwriting credits and having me play on his album had actually given me a hope that at long last I could make something of my passion for music, but instead it had led to my falling in love with someone I knew I could never have. Bruce Dickinson could have any woman in the world and a good many men as well. Forced by his doctor to stay isolated in this country house he had no doubt become bored and he had only chosen me out of convenience because I was handy. It had been all too easy, too, because I had practically thrown myself at him the first night he kissed me. It was my own stupidity that I’d allowed myself to feel something for him and I had to put a stop to that before I got my heart broken.  
I was afraid it may already be too late for that. I took a long shower and started my daily routine lost in thought. I was glad it was the weekend and the boys weren’t working, I was in no mood to listen to them chatter amongst themselves about their girlfriends and college courses. Rose only came in for a couple of hours on Saturdays to prepare Bruce’s meals for the weekend in advance and as soon as I saw her vehicle arrive I went to the main house before I could second guess the decision I’d made.  
She looked up from her recipe book when I entered the back door. “Good morning, Janick!” she greeted me cheerfully, then she gave me a second look. “You’re looking awfully glum, is something wrong?”  
I sat at the kitchen table, staring at my hands clasped on the table in front of me. “I’m afraid so. I…., I can’t work here anymore, Rose. I’m sorry but I’m going to have to leave immediately.”  
Her mouth fell open in surprise. “Oh, no! But I thought you were happy here?”  
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I am. I mean, I was, but something personal has come up. I’m sure you’ll be easily be able to find someone to take over my job and the boys can do the basic work until you do.”  
She was still stunned, she sank into the chair opposite me, twisting a dishtowel in her hands. “Yes, I’m sure they can but are you sure you won’t reconsider? If you need some time off I’m sure Mr. Bruce will give you all the time you need.”  
I just shook my head. “No, no, that won’t help. And can I ask you a big favor, Rose? Please don’t tell him I’ve left until you absolutely have to.”  
“He hasn’t come down yet this morning, but you know I’ll have to tell him, he’ll have to arrange to hire someone else.”  
“In that case, I’d better be going.” I stood up with a resolve that was on the brink of withering any second.  
“You’re leaving right away? Oh, Janick, I’m so sorry to see you go! Is there an address where I can mail your final paycheck?”  
I hadn’t thought of that but I thought quickly and scribbled down Dustin’s address at University. I hadn’t given any real thought to where I would go but heading for London would give me some sort of destination, at least.

I gave Rose a quick hug goodbye but I was anxious to leave before Bruce made an appearance. It only took me fifteen minutes to load my belongings in my car and I steadfastly refused to look behind me as I drove out the drive. My heart felt like a huge rock in my chest and I had to keep blinking as I drove out onto the highway because my eyes were threatening to overflow. I tried to focus on driving but I couldn’t, I was shaking inside and after forty minutes of driving I finally had to pull off the road into a petrol station. I’d gotten very little sleep the night before and that, coupled with my emotional state, left me feeling exhausted and ragged. Finally I gave in , put my head down on the steering wheel, and cried. I hadn’t gotten away in time, my heart was already broken.  
I don’t know how long I sat there but eventually I felt like I didn’t have any tears left. This was easily the most difficult thing I had ever done in my life. More difficult than giving up music to marry Sarah, more difficult than seeing Graeme move to America to carry on a music career without me, more difficult than leaving the home I’d known for seventeen years when Sarah ordered me out. Nothing had torn me up the way this was doing, but I knew it was either now or later and the longer I allowed it to go on, the worse it would be when Bruce eventually wanted to cast me aside and move on.  
It started to rain, a perfect complement to my mood, and I ducked my head and ran into the petrol station for a bottle of water and some crisps. I was looking down at the pavement when I walked back out to my car, my thoughts as bleak as the weather, so my heart nearly jumped out of my chest when a familiar voice spoke from right in front of me.  
“Janick…”  
I looked up in shock. It was Bruce standing there in the rain without even a jacket , drenched to the bone. His Jaguar was parked directly behind my Skoda but I’d been so wrapped in misery I hadn’t looked up to see it. I just stared, unable to speak.  
Bruce couldn’t seem to speak for a moment either and it wrung my heart to see his face, he looked absolutely miserable. It wasn’t simply because of the rain, it was the expression in his eyes, and when he did speak again his voice sounded close to breaking.  
“Jan, why? Why are you leaving me?”  
I couldn’t answer. I looked down again and simply shook my head. He reached out and touched the sleeve of my denim jacket just briefly. “Please…., come sit with me in my car. Please tell me why you’re doing this…” His voice did break then and he hesitantly reached out again, withdrawing his hand just before it touched me. “Please?” he repeated.  
We were both drenched and cold and as always I couldn’t refuse him. I walked with him to the car and he opened the passenger side door for me. Even when he’d seated himself behind the wheel, though, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even look at him. I knew that if I did I would break down so instead I watched the water drip from my hair and onto the rich leather upholstery.  
“How did you find me?” I finally asked, my voice coming out so low it was barely a whisper.  
“I saw your car leave from my bedroom window. I thought maybe you had something to do in town but a little while later I went downstairs and Rose told me…. Told me you were gone. So I drove in the direction I saw you head and I kept on driving until I saw your car.” He paused and raked his wet hair back with his fingers. “Janick, if you didn’t want to….to sleep with me any more you only had to say so! I wouldn’t expect you to do something you don’t want to do! I thought that you wanted me…”  
“I do!” I said before I could stop myself. “That’s why I have to leave. I want you too much!”  
“I don’t understand. “ He sounded so confused and lost it tore at my heart.  
I looked up then and the anguish in his eyes nearly took my breath away. “I can’t explain it, Bruce. It’s already too late, anyway.”  
Now he looked more baffled than ever and I regretted speaking so impulsively.  
“Too late for what? Damn it, Janick, you aren’t making any sense! You said you want to be with me so you have to leave, and now you say it’s too late. What the fuck are you talking about?”  
“Bruce, I’m in love with you!” I burst out. There, I said it. I probably shouldn’t have but it was out there now. The expression on his face went from perplexed and frustrated to stunned.  
“You……what?!”  
I sighed, knowing I was committed to trying to explain myself now. “I know, it’s stupid. It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done and I’ve done my share of stupid things. I know it was only supposed to be a bit of fun but I couldn’t help it, and God knows I couldn’t say no to you. I slept with you twice and I can’t keep doing that, not feeling like I do and knowing nothing could ever come of it.”  
I trailed off at the end of that and looked away from him, lowering my eyes again. The silence stretched on, the rain beating on the roof sounding like machine gun fire.  
“Janick, look at me. Please?” Bruce voice was still sad and soft. I forced myself to look up and meet his eyes and I saw moisture there that wasn’t from the rain. “Why do you think nothing can come of what’s between us?”  
“Because….” I struggled for a way to express it, “because you are you. You are Bruce Dickinson! You’ve just gotten divorced, you’re under a doctor’s care for stress, and……you can have anyone! Anyone you want!”

“I don’t want anyone else, Janick. I want you!” The words were quiet and solemn and there was a note in his voice that made me look up again. He went on, “I’m no different from you, Janick! So what if I can sing and I’ve gotten recognition for it? Do you think that means I can’t feel anything for you? So what if I just got divorced? That was a formality, my marriage has been over for a couple of years. Janick…” he leaned across the seat and touched my face, turning me to look at him. “I can’t bear to have you walk out of my life like this! Tell me what I have to do to prove to you that I care for you!”

I lost myself looking into his eyes. I felt tears slide down my face though I hadn’t been aware that I was crying. “You came after me, Bruce! I… I suppose that means something.” I admitted.  
He reached up and touched my face again, brushing the tears with the pad of his thumb. “It means everything! I was attracted to you from the moment I saw you with your long legs and great arse, and when I got to know you I came to genuinely like and respect you. I know you aren’t either not a person to use the word love lightly, and neither am I. But when I thought you’d run away from me, that I may never find you, it suddenly dawned on me that I love you! Please, Janick, give me a chance!”  
His fingers were still stroking my face and I couldn’t look away from his eyes. I had to speak, though. I had to give voice to the worries and uncertainties I’d been wrestling with.  
“You’re my employer. I’m not comfortable with people thinking…..thinking that you’re employing me to be in your bed.”  
“That isn’t the way it is and I don’t give a damn what people think, but I understand what you’re saying. I want you to be my partner, not my employee! My songwriting partner, my guitarist, and my lover. My love!” He emphasized the last word and at that moment I knew I was going to go back with him. I knew I would go anywhere with him, that I’d follow him just as he followed me.  
He was looking at me expectantly and a little uncertainly and I took his hand, pressing my lips to it then folding it between my own. “I’ll be your partner, Bruce. But I don’t want to work for you. It feels too strange.”  
“You’ll come home?” he wanted to hear me say it, I could tell.  
I smiled and nodded. “Yes. I don’t think I could live without you.”  
“You won’t have to!” he leaned across and kissed me, a very soft, gentle kiss that managed to convey an incredible amount of emotion.  
We sat there for a few more minutes awkwardly holding one another across the center seat console, then Bruce asked if I wanted to ride back with him. He said he would send someone for my car and when I agreed he dashed into the gas station to verify that they would watch the car until someone picked it up. All my belongings were in it, after all. Driving back to the house he drove with one hand, the other holding my hand across the seat and I couldn’t stop myself from watching him as he drove. I knew I was entering into a new phase of my life, a completely unexpected phase that I was excited but still a little nervous about.  
When we pulled off the highway onto the road that led to the house, Bruce slowed the car to a stop and looked over at me.  
“I Want To suggest something, and if it alarms you or upsets you I want you to just say so, all right?”  
I nodded. “All right.’  
“I want to know if you’ll consider staying at the house with me. If it’s too soon for you to think about…..”  
I interrupted him by squeezing his hand. “I’d like that.”  
He broke into a grin, clearly he hadn’t expected me to agree to it. “Really? Fantastic! Um, I kind of told Rose about us.”  
I was surprised and it clearly showed on my face because he went on to explain. “When she told me you quit your job and left I got frantic and she thought I was having some kind of psychotic episode or something,” he laughed a little. “I guess I was really freaking out and she tried to calm me down so I sort of blurted it out. I’m sorry…”  
“No, don’t apologize! She’ll find out that I’m staying in your room anyway, right?”  
“Yeah, that’s true, but don’t put it that way. You aren’t ‘staying in my room’, you’re living with me in our home. All right?”  
I shook my head. “It’s going to take time for me to think about it that way.”  
He leaned and cupped his hand behind my head, pulling me to him for a kiss. “You’ve got all the time in the world.”  
When we got to the house Rose had gone and we were the only two people on the estate. Being close to Bruce was having the same effect on me it always had; my heart felt as though it was beating faster and I couldn’t quite catch my breath. Needless to say, I got an erection every time he as much as took my hand and I knew what was going to happen as soon as we got in the house.  
Bruce surprised me though. He didn’t immediately lead me up to his bedroom. Instead he took me by the hand and took me into the study.  
“I want to show you something that I got ion my email this morning.” He told me, taking his laptop computer and sitting next to me on the couch with it. After booting it up he quickly pulled up his email, opened a letter, then handed me the computer.  
“What is this?” I couldn’t figure out what he was doing.  
“Just tread it.”  
I looked it over, it seemed to be a legal contract of some kind but I didn’t know why he was showing it to me, then I saw my name in it. I read it over, then looked over at Bruce in astonishment.  
“I had my solicitors draw this up last week.” He told me. “It legally establishes you as my songwriting partner. Here it outlines the percentage you’re entitled to,“ he pointed out a section, “and this part is the contract for you to be my guitarist for all future solo projects. It’s worded in such a way that you are given equal credit for anything we work on together, Janick, no matter what it’s to be used for. They’re sending me a hard copy of this by post and once you sign it, we’re partners. No more employer and employee. I wanted you to see this, I want you to know I’m serious.”  
He fell silent then and I sat, letting the implications of this sink in. He had put this contract in motion before we first slept together. This meant that he had been thinking of me as a permanent fixture in his life all along and I wasn’t just a casual dalliance to fill the time. This contract effectively bound Bruce and I together, and I found that thought very reassuring.  
“Bruce, I….I’m kind of overwhelmed by all this.”  
He was sitting close by my side and I was very conscious of it. “Why? It’s a standard contract, nothing elaborate. If the band you had when you were younger had gotten more popular you would have encountered similar things.”  
“I know, that isn’t what I mean. I mean that knowing you were having this drawn up before anything…physical happened between us means a lot to me.” I smiled at him. “Thank you.”  
He laughed a little. “You don’t have to thank me. However, if you really feel you must,” he smiled a slow, naughty smile, “I think we should go upstairs.”  
I pulled him to me and kissed him hard, “We’ll be lucky if we can make it that far before I jump all over you!” He laughed outright at that and stood, taking my hand and leading me up to the bedroom.  
It was only mid-day but the gloomy weather and the heightened intimacy between us made the bedroom atmosphere cozy and warm. I was aware of a deeper emotional connection between Bruce and I, it had been there all along but I’d been unable to let my guard down enough to acknowledge it until now. Whereas before the incredible sexual chemistry I felt had taken me over, now I was able to let the whole experience overtake me, both physical and emotional, and it only enhanced what I already though of as the most incredible sex of my life.  
Bruce, too, seemed to be more deeply aware of what we had between us. I understood that he hadn’t fully understood what he felt until I left, and if I doubted that I was certain of it now. We didn’t merely have sex, fucking for the physical satisfaction of the act, we made love. It was tender and profoundly intense and we stayed in bed all afternoon, not just making love but talking. I learned a great deal about Bruce and I developed a deeper understanding of him. He exposed some of his vulnerabilities to me that afternoon and I could tell it wasn’t easy for him. Decades in the public eye had taught him to hide behind the shield of a public persona, the world didn’t know the private Bruce Dickinson and I felt privileged that he was letting me in.  
“It’s going to take time for me to open up,” he admitted to me as we lay beneath the sheets, our naked limbs tangled together, “because it’s very difficult for me to trust people. I’ve only known you a short time but already I trust you completely. If you can be patient with me, Jan, you will know me better than I know myself.”  
I kissed him softly. “I understand about trust, I know all too well how difficult it is be open with people, even the people closest to you.” I paused, then asked something that I’d been wondering about. “Are you going to trust anyone with the nature of our relationship, Bruce? I completely understand if you don’t want people to know. I have no one to tell except my son but you have a world of people, especially your bandmates, and your children. They are younger than Dustin, they may be too young to understand this kind of thing, especially so soon after your split from their mother.”  
He smiled. “I would love for everyone to know, I’d like to shout it out from the stage everyplace I go! But you’re right about my kids, I suppose. It feels like I haven’t been with Penny for a long time, we’ve been living separate lives for a long time, but as far as they knew we were together until I moved out last winter.” He sighed and pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. “And I haven’t even thought about my bandmates. Since we’re on hiatus because of my so-called psychological issues they’re scattered all over the world. Two live in America, one lives in Canada, and I have no idea where Harry is, he has several different houses. They don’t even know I’m working on a solo album yet.”  
“They’re going to think I’m just a result of your being stressed out over your divorce and custody battle.” I murmured, nuzzling into his neck.  
“Maybe. I don’t give a fuck what they think. We’re all friends, but we’re not as close unless we’re touring and see each other every day. I don’t want to think about this now, Janick.” He started kissing and nibbling on my neck and ear. “It will all work out. The important thing is that I’ve found you and nothing is going to make me let you go now!”  
“Mmm….good!” I sighed, giving myself over to the feelings that were starting to build as he continued working his way across my shoulders and chest. “I’m not going to let you let me go!” I playfully slid my hand down his belly and lightly brushed his already erect cock. He lightly bit my nipple in response, sending an electric current straight through me. I continued teasing him with my hand but I couldn’t simply lie there, I had to move, finding his neck and ear and tracing my tongue lightly across the skin, teasing him. With a sudden move he flipped on his back, pulling me over top of him.  
“You get so into this,” he smiled, “maybe I should have you be the aggressor this time!”  
That was definitely all right by me. Acting purely on impulse I pinned his shoulders down with my hands as I trailed kisses across his torso, never with too much pressure, just enough to get him worked up to the point where he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes closed, giving me free rein to have my way with him and I took complete advantage of the opportunity.  
Bruce’s body fascinated me, he was stocky and muscular with an abundance of body hair and he was also quite well endowed. These things all factored into why he turned me on so much but there was more to it than his mere physical appearance, there was something deeper, some kind of subliminal link I couldn’t define but I couldn’t deny how it affected me. I went half crazy with desire for him and I was acting on it without having to think about it, kissing nipping and licking every inch of his chest and stomach, all the while keeping my hand lightly on his rampant erection. He was moaning softly, his hips moving beneath me as I finally reached my goal, removing my hand and replacing it with my mouth.  
Bruce was reaching for me, his hands in my hair, and I looked up to find him looking at me, the look in his eyes piercing and impassioned.  
“Come up here, Jan. Let me reach you, let me touch you.”  
I pulled my mouth from him with a long, slow pull, tracing my tongue around him just once before I moved back up to meet his kiss.  
“Jan..” he was breathless, “I want….i want you to fuck me! Will you fuck me, Janick? Please?”  
Oh hell yes, I thought to myself, feeling myself come one step closer to orgasm just from the thought. “I’ll do anything you ask of me, Bruce!” I kissed him again. I’d only been in the top position a time or two in my life but I was in a frenzy by now and my hands were trembling as I used the lube on both himself and on me. When I was finally ready to enter him I did it slowly, torturously slowly, fighting the almost driving need I felt to pound into him hard and fast. My reward was in watching him close his eyes after the initial sting subsided, an expression of pure pleasure on his face. He reached up and clutched my shoulders and opened his eyes again, looking up at me.  
“I want this , Janick, I want you! Do it, take me!”  
He didn’t have to ask twice. The movements increased, the momentum built, and soon the room was filled with soft moans and breathless urgings until we both reached the top almost simultaneously, the orgasm coming upon me like a tidal wave, powerful and unstoppable and completely overwhelming. I was only dimly aware of Bruce’s own sharp cry below me as I rode the sensations into euphoria.

Bruce was reaching for me, his hands in my hair, pulling me down for a deep kiss as I slid off him and lay at his side. “Stay with me, Janick. Stay with me for the rest of my life.” he whispered.  
I looked up at him. “I will.”

~~**~~


End file.
